Game On
by PenguinBuddy
Summary: When Eva Wood is named Quidditch captain, she feels ready to take on the world. But first, she'll have to take on a Slytherin captain, a roommate obsessed with her dad, and James Potter, who thinks he should be captain. Game on.
1. The New Gryffindor Quidditch Captain

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

A/N: Hello and welcome to my newest project! I've been reading some Next Generation stories lately, and was inspired to write my own. I'm really enjoying thinking of plot ideas and exploring an original character as the main character. It's been great fun to write, so I hope you enjoy "Game On."

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_Chapter One: The New Gryffindor Quidditch Captain_

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You might say that I was born to play Quidditch. My father was Oliver Wood, Keeper and captain of the Gryffindor House team for three years, the most decorated Keeper in Puddlemere United history, and now the Puddlemere coach. My mother was Pippa Wood, staff writer and eventual senior editor for the premier Quidditch publication, _Quidditch Weekly_.

I'd been watching, analyzing, and playing the game for so long now, that I didn't remember not knowing what Quidditch was. My parents joked that I could fly before I could walk. This was a slight exaggeration certainly, but it just showed the extent to which my family lived and breathed all things Quidditch. Of course, we did have other interests, but when your parents' careers and hobbies involve Quidditch, that's the predominant theme of the household.

As the only girl in a family of three brothers, you might expect me to have been spoiled and treated like a little princess, but you would be wrong. I was encouraged to be outside with my brothers playing Quidditch, playing in the dirt, climbing trees, learning to do stunts and tricks on my broom.

Half the time I was instigating whatever mess we got ourselves into. I might have been responsible for our attempt at switching brooms while also passing the Quaffle between us as we flew at a low speed. Granted, we were about three feet off the ground, but taking a swan dive and landing on your nose is not a good plan. A girl couldn't ask for better brothers than Tristan, Richard, and Gareth, my accomplices in mischief and the ones who helped me break six different bones before I was eleven.

That wasn't to say that I hated pink or never wore dresses or something. I was most comfortable in my Quidditch robes or workout gear, but I liked skirts and dresses just fine for the right occasion. I even wore mascara and lip gloss on a daily basis. It was just that I don't mind getting dirty and sweaty the way that a lot of other girls do. I didn't see what the problem was considering it all comes off in the shower anyway, yeah?

Quidditch had given me a lot. It taught me to be analytical, to reserve judgment, to be patient, to value and to have a good work ethic, to be a team player. I'd also had some very exciting experiences attending Dad's matches, and having the chance to meet players, coaches, trainers, and writers. It had also given me all of my friends from the Gryffindor team at Hogwarts, whom I wouldn't trade for anything.

However, Quidditch had given me one thing that I would gladly trade any day: James Potter. Potter was a fellow sixth year Gryffindor who was also on the team, much to my chagrin. He was the sort that liked to wind people up and liked to be the center of attention.

That's probably why he enjoyed being a Seeker. Once the chase for the Golden Snitch was on, all eyes were fixed on him and when he caught the Snitch (as he almost always did) the spotlight of the win rested on his shoulders. People remember the other highlights of the match as well, but he was remembered as the one who brought the match to a breathtaking climax.

Potter and I both made the reserves in our second year, which was a considerable feat for twelve year olds. Potter wasn't as pleased as I was, considering his dad, Harry Potter, had been on the Gryffindor team since his first year. I reckoned he thought he would follow exactly in his dad's footsteps. Of course, I would be lying if I said I hadn't been a bit disappointed at not making the team that year, but I knew that the next year there would be an open chaser position after Penman graduated. I just had to practice even harder, that was all.

For reasons that I didn't remember, and I wasn't sure even exist, Potter and I had developed an intense Quidditch rivalry. We played different positions and we were on the same team, but it was a rivalry nonetheless. He was forever trying to out-do me – to know more about the game, the players, the tactics, the strategy, the history.

So, naturally, I had to fight back and show him that I'm actually the one who knows more. He really should have just given up.

Things between us had only escalated over our years on the team together. Certainly, we had been able to work together for the sake of teamwork and winning the cup for Gryffindor, but it didn't mean that we liked it. We didn't hate each other. At least, I didn't hate him. I couldn't speak for Potter, but I was pretty certain that he didn't hate me either.

Well, at least he didn't up until this morning. I sensed that when he realized that his Hogwarts letter arrived without the Quidditch captain badge inside, he was going to be furious, and I knew that his anger was going to be aimed directly at me.

Why? Because I happened to be the new Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.

The letter was still in my hands, crisp and barely opened while the scarlet and gold badge sat heavily on the parchment surrounded by words in emerald green ink.

"Well?" my mum prompted, her voice laced with curiosity. The other faces around the breakfast table all reflected expressions of hope and anticipation.

"I'm captain!" I crowed triumphantly, grabbing the badge and holding it up high with a fist pump.

There was a small explosion of sound as everyone cheered and offered me congratulations.

"I knew it, there was no contest!" Richard practically yelled in my ear as he gave me a hug that lifted me clear off the ground.

"Way to go, baby sister," Tristan ruffled my hair affectionately before also giving me a hug.

"I'm only a year younger," I grumbled good-naturedly. Because of the small age gap between us, I was closer with Tristan than with Richard and Gareth, who were twins, and two years younger than me.

"Brilliant, Al owes me a galleon!" Gareth crowed in triumph, thumping me on the back so hard I nearly toppled over.

My stomach gave a small twinge at the mention of Al Potter, James's younger brother. Somewhere in the West Country, Potter was opening his letter and realizing that I must have been named Captain, and not him. I wasn't feeling sorry for him on a personal level, mind, but I knew how I would have felt if he had been the one to get the badge and not me. I (probably) wouldn't have cried in front of my family, but I would have been devastated.

"That's wonderful, Eva," Mum said, wrapping her arms around me and giving me a gentle squeeze, which was much welcome after Gareth's near physical assault on my person. "You'll be brilliant, I know it."

Dad looked like he was about to cry out of sheer euphoria. "That's my girl!" he said, hugging me so tightly my spine popped a bit. _Ouch_. "First female Quidditch captain in the family! This deserves a celebration, don't you think, Pippa?"

Mum clasped her hands together in excitement. "I'll make shepherd's pie for dinner. And treacle tart for dessert."

Even though I just finished breakfast, my stomach practically gurgled at the thought of my mum's shepherd's pie. Seriously, I challenge anyone to find any food, anywhere, that's better. Even the house elves at Hogwarts can't make it like Mum.

After everyone had settled down some, and Dad and Gareth had begun a rather passionate looking discussion on the current League standings, I went outside to take a celebratory fly.

When I was happy, I went flying. When I was upset, I went flying. Or who needed a reason, flying was just plain wonderful. I loved being up in the air, and it often felt more natural to me than walking on the ground.

Tristan joined me, following me out to the backyard broom shed. He had left his broom in the locker rooms at the Puddlemere Stadium, so he would have to use one of our spares. Considering everyone in the family plays and Dad couldn't throw away a broomstick if his life depended on it, we have plenty to spare.

"How's the reserves treating you?" I asked him as I opened the door to the shed and stepped inside.

"All right," he responded, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I'm good enough to play on the main team and get off the reserves, but they don't want to show any favoritism since I'm the coach's son."

I grabbed my broom, my prized possession, and then searched for something for Tristan to ride for the afternoon.

"Firebolt Deluxe 100 fine with you?" I offered, running my fingertips over the well-worn wood of the handle. It was still a beautiful broom, if no longer the latest model.

Tristan grinned. "Hand it over."

I'm not a person who's overly concerned with money, but I do like that with my Dad's wealth from being a Professional Quidditch star has come our beautiful, large old home in the country. It's certainly a nice house on it's own, but the real attraction for me is the large amount of land we own that allows our family to have our own miniature Quidditch pitch out back. It's more of an open, grassy field, but it has regulation-sized hoops at each end and charms on it so that Muggles can't see it or come too close.

As Tristan and I made our way out to our pitch, picking through the tall grass of the fields, I resumed the conversation that I'd started before.

"You know," I told my older brother, "maybe you're really not ready to be taken off reserves yet. Besides, Rhys is a brilliant Keeper. Why would they replace him?"

Tristan scuffed his shoe in a patch of dirt. "I know. It's just…." He sighed heavily. "It's hard waiting. I'm tired of doing nothing but practicing. I want to play in a real match where it matters whether you win or lose. Isn't that what all players want, Eva - to play the game?"

"It is," I assured him. "But just be patient. You'll get your turn in the spotlight. And until then, just remember that you've got your name stitched on the back of your official Puddlemere kit, which makes you a part of the team."

We had reached the edge of the field, and I swung my leg over my broom and pushed off hard with the balls of my feet. Tristan was right behind me.

Was there anything better than feeling the air rush by your face and whip through your hair? I rose higher and higher and looked down at our house, which now looked quite small from this vantage point. I felt sorry for those people who were afraid of heights. They were missing out on some spectacular views and breathtaking experiences.

We could have gotten out a Quaffle as well, but Tristan and I chose to simply fly around the pitch and enjoy ourselves. The hot August sun beat down on my body, but with the breeze from soaring through the air, I barely felt it.

I, Eva Rebecca Wood was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain! Nothing could bring me down because right now, I was as perfectly happy as I'd ever been in my entire life. I knew I was grinning uncontrollably, but I couldn't find it in myself to care if I did bare a striking resemblance to an escapee from St. Mungo's.

I had worked exceptionally hard for the last four years to earn this, and all of my time, effort, and struggle had been worth it. Hopefully, everything was beginning to fall into place. I would captain Gryffindor to victory in the race for the House Cup, and then I would be noticed by scouts, and asked to try out for a few professional teams.

Of course, I only wanted to play for Puddlemere, but I didn't mind being on the reserve team for a while if it meant that I got to someday wear the navy robes with the two crossed golden bulrushes. My opportunity would come, I was certain of it.

But first, I needed to focus on training an ace Gryffindor House team. I was nervous about being Captain, but giddily so. I knew that sooner or later I would have to talk to Potter about it, but for now, I could enjoy looking forward to the coming term and Quidditch season.

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I looked in the mirror. A mildly pretty girl looked back at me, blinking once or twice. Light, wavy brown hair, bright blue eyes in an oval shaped face with a spot forming on my left cheek. Splendid. I was wearing a pair of jean shorts and a navy Puddlemere United t-shirt from two years ago when they won the League Cup.

We don't cheer for anybody but Puddlemere in this household. To do otherwise is simply inconceivable. First off, what other team can compare? Second, I think Dad would have a seizure. Seriously.

I nodded once at my reflection. I looked presentable enough for the train ride back to Hogwarts. I would be changing into my school robes halfway there anyway.

We made it to King's Cross without any problems, which was something of a feat with Tristan, Richard, Gareth, and me in the car. Dad had taken the day off (with an extra long practice the next day to compensate, of course) to see us off at the train station, which meant that Tristan was there to see us off as well.

It was strange, the fact that Tristan wouldn't be coming with us to Hogwarts this year. What would life on the Quidditch team be like without my older brother? He was the Keeper and I was a Chaser, so we spent a lot of time at practice together with the other two chasers. Seeing as we had played together for practically forever, we knew each other's moves too well for it to really be as an effective practice as it could have been.

I would have to hold try outs for a new Keeper as well as a new Chaser, since our former captain, Sean O'Mara had now graduated. Tryouts were always exciting because you never could be quite sure who would turn up and what unexpected talent you might find.

Of course, Richard had been considered reserve Keeper last year, so his chances of making the team this year were pretty high. He would have to try out just the same as everyone else, but I knew how he played, and I knew that he was good. Very good.

Over the last two weeks, every time I had seen Dad around the house, he would impart upon me some tip or words of advice about being the team captain. After the first ten times, it grew a little old, but I knew he only wanted me to succeed, so I tucked the information away in my brain for later.

On the platform, off to my left, I saw Harry and Ginny Potter with Al and Lily, which meant that James couldn't be very far away.

"Let's go farther down the train," I suggested. "This end looks a wee bit crowded."

It wasn't that I was afraid of James Potter. Psh. I could hold my own against that boy. That was no problem. I just didn't feel like having a row at this time of the morning on a train platform while our families looked on.

After my Dad had helped me stow my luggage on the train, it was time for one last farewell. Despite their protest, Dad pulled Richard and Gareth into man hugs, slapping each on the back a few times while Mum hugged each and stroked their hair and brushed imaginary lint off of their shoulders.

"If you need any advice, let me know," Dad told me in his soft Scottish accent, bending down a bit to look earnestly into my eyes and placing his hands heavily on my shoulders.

"I'll be fine," I assured him (and myself) with a smile. "I was made for this. I'm a Wood aren't I?"

He smiled, one side of his mouth a bit higher than the other. "Of course you will. But there's nothing wrong with asking for a little help. Remember to polish your broom more often as it gets colder; you don't want the wood cracking or splintering. And make sure that you make the team do endurance workouts. Morning practices are best because other teams are less likely to be able to spy on you."

I'm pretty sure that he would have gone on without end, but Mum laid her hand on his arm and cleared her throat. She gave him a pointed look that very clearly said he needed to stop rambling on about things I already knew.

Sometimes words weren't necessary between my parents.

"Got it, Dad," I reached up to hug him goodbye. I loved hugs from my dad. Except for flying, there was nothing better than being wrapped in his strong, safe arms.

Mum smoothed my hair down on top and straightened my shirt before giving me a tight hug. "Write often," she instructed me. "And make sure your brothers do the same." She paused, then said. "I bought you some new broom polish; I packed it in your trunk for you."

Waving one last goodbye, I boarded the train, following Richard and Gareth.

"Eva!" Dad called, his voice urgent.

I turned around giving Dad an exasperated look, but he didn't even seem to notice. The man had a very singular focus.

"Remember to keep your elbows firmly tucked in when you're in possession of the Quaffle!"

"Oliver, stop it," I heard my mum say forcefully yet fondly as I turned back around and climbed on board the train. "She'll be all right."

The twins went off to find their own friends that they hadn't seen for a while since as their older sister, I was old news.

I peered to the right, then the left down the corridor. It was packed with students still trying to locate their friends or a place to sit, but I didn't see Potter's unruly black hair anywhere in the crowd. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Avoiding me?" A masculine voice said in my ear.

"Aaahhh!" I shrieked, simultaneously jumping a metre in the air and twisting around to see who was behind me. I hadn't even heard anyone behind me on the train's stairs.

I really shouldn't have been surprised to see James Potter standing right behind me, I really shouldn't have. And yet I was.

Like me, he had obviously spent his summer outdoors on his broom and as a result his skin was rather tanned. His ebony hair was going every which way as usual, and even as I watched, he ran a hand through it, making it even untidier than it had been the moment before.

Potter smirked, brown eyes dancing with mirth. "Judging by that reaction, I'd say you were."

"Contrary to belief, not everything is about you Potter," I sniffed, cross with myself for having been caught in stealth mode by the prat himself.

"Who else would you be trying to avoid?" he asked, though it really wasn't a question.

I bristled at the thought that James Potter thought he knew me in any sort of capacity outside of Quidditch. Because he most certainly did not.

"Since when do you know all about my life, hm?" I countered. "Maybe I was looking _for_ someone. Did that ever occur to you?"

"Looking for someone?" he scoffed, clearly not buying my lie. "Who?"

"None of your business," I informed him loftily.

Potter's tanned face took on a curious expression. "A bloke, then."

"None of your business."

Potter shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and gave me a piercing stare. "Admit it: You were hiding from me because you know I should have been named captain and you're afraid to face me."

Oh, he did not just say what I think he just said. I _was_ going to try to be nicer to Potter, I really was, considering I knew how much he had wanted the captaincy. But this changed everything.

"How dare you!" I practically screeched in his face. Not my most attractive moment to be sure, but the plank deserved it. "I've worked hard for four years to become captain, Potter. McGonagall and Sean knew that I would take this job seriously, unlike you someone who has never taken a thing seriously in his life."

Potter leaned towards me in a slightly menacing manner, brown eyes flashing with anger. "I take winning seriously, and I get results. Everyone in Gryffindor knows that I should have been named captain, and pretty soon everyone else in Hogwarts is going to know it too."

Before I could deliver the cutting reply that was forming in my mind, he turned on his heal and strode off down the train corridor without so much as a glance backwards. That insufferable prat never did fight fair when it came to verbal sparring.

Well, guess what, James Potter? I'd never backed down from a challenge yet and I didn't intend to start now. I was named captain fair and square and I was going to lead the best team that Gryffindor had ever seen to win the House Cup.

Game on.

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I know that James came across as a real jerk in this first chapter, but remember that he's more than a little angry and bitter about not being named captain. He and Eva don't hate each other, and they don't always act with such hostility towards each other. I think if you stick with me, you'll see a very different side to James!

Thanks for reading! Reviews, thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism welcome!


	2. A Slytherin Captain and Oliver Wood's

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter Two: A Slytherin Captain and Oliver Wood's Biggest Fan**_

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Moving away from the scene of my argument with Potter, I wandered in the opposite direction in search of my best friend, Christine Elliot.

I found her boyfriend, Kieran Douglas, in a compartment near the front, and I realized that I had forgotten that as Head Girl, Christine had to sit with the Prefects for a while and then do a bit of patrolling before she could join us.

Pulling the door open and standing in the doorway, I smiled and asked, "Is there room for one more in here?"

I spent a lot of time being a third wheel with Christine and Kieran. I admit that at times I found it a tad awkward, but it was never because they purposefully made it so. It just felt like sometimes I was butting in on their private time, and as a result, I tended to ask if I could join them.

"You can hardly consider yourself a third wheel if she's not even around," Kieran joked, dark brown eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Get in here."

"I heard you were named captain for Gryffindor," a voice said loudly from down the corridor. Ugh. I knew that voice.

Looking to my left, I spotted sixth year Slytherin Lyra Rinaldi standing with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face. Merlin, I detested her.

"Heard you were named captain for Slytherin team. Congratulations," I returned, trying my best to be polite and avoid having to talk any more with her.

I was just about to step into the compartment with Kieran, when Lyra's cold and flat voice rang out loudly, "I thought they'd give it to Potter because of who his father is, but then I remembered who _your _father is, and the choice made some sense after all."

Anger swept swiftly through me, and I stopped shortly, gripping the doorframe hard in my hands.

"I worked to earn my position the same way you did…well, probably not _quite_ the same."

A low blow, I'll admit, and not true at all (to my knowledge), but it was satisfying seeing her face color in anger. I didn't usually stoop so low in my insults; in fact I wasn't usually a terribly rude person. Unfortunately, Lyra Rinaldi knew exactly what buttons to push to bring out the worst in me.

Ha, Lyra and Potter would be a perfect match for each other. They could sit around discussing how much they dislike me and together plot my downfall as Quidditch captain.

"Potter must be angry that you stole captain from him after he worked so hard for it." Lyra told me, her face stuck in a perpetual smirk. "But I expect if you just give in and shag him, he'll manage to forgive you."

My mouth dropped open in shock at her words. _Give in and shag Potter_? What the hell was this girl talking about? It was hardly a secret that Potter and I didn't always get on well and that we were rivals on the pitch. I most certainly didn't want to shag him, and I would have been willing to bet all the gold in my Gringotts vault that he didn't want to shag me either.

"You're unbelievable," I told her. "I didn't steal anything, and get your facts straight."

And with that, I pulled the compartment door shut behind me. Merlin, what was wrong with everyone today? Neither Potter nor Lyra had ever been so rude to me before, and I was left reeling slightly.

"She's just insecure," Kieran told me as I plopped heavily down on the bench across from him, leaving the spot next to him open for Christine. "I don't think Slytherin has ever had a female captain before. That must be a tremendous amount of pressure."

"There hasn't," I supplied instantly. "Been a female Slytherin Captain, I mean. I can't say I envy the position she's in – I'm hardly in a great one myself - but that doesn't give her the right to walk around knocking other people for no good reason. She just winds me up…."

"What do you mean you're not in a great position yourself?" Kieran asked, confused.

I let my head fall back against the seat cushion behind me. "I ran into Potter when I first boarded the train. He was kind enough to remind me that almost everyone expected him to be named Gryffindor captain, not me."

"That's not true," Kieran protested. "I've heard members of the Ravenclaw team discussing it in our common room. They were sure you'd be named captain."

"Because my dad is Oliver Wood?" I asked, bitterness seeping unbidden into my tone.

Kieran shook his head patiently. "They know you're the one who practices the longest and the hardest. They know you practice extra without the rest of the team; that you go for runs in the morning. Don't let Potter and Lyra get into your head like that. Anyone who says you got in easy as captain is ignorant of how hard you work. Not to mention jealous."

"Is the Ravenclaw team _spying on me_?" I demanded, all thoughts of Lyra's jab gone from my mind for the moment in lieu of this new information. I mean, bloody hell, they knew my practice habits. I'd have to change things up this year to throw them off.

"Hardly," Kieran scoffed. "Ravenclaws don't need to resort to spying. They just know how to analyze and interpret what they observe."

I raised an eyebrow. I'm talented like that. "Tell Chang to keep out of my business," I told Kieran with fake sternness, as though he was chummy with the Ravenclaw captain.

"Yeah, I'll mention it the next time we're hanging out," Kieran rolled his eyes.

The door to the compartment rolled open and Zara Andrews, the female Beater on the Gryffindor team stepped over the threshold.

"Eva, love, I heard you're captain!" She glanced at my shirt where the captain's gleamed brightly. I might have polished it a few times since it arrived. Okay, so every day, if I was completely honest. And I couldn't even blame it on my dad.

"It's true," I told her with a wide grin splitting my face. "I can hardly believe it, but I'm incredibly excited. I have loads of ideas already."

Zara pushed her curly black hair behind her ears. "Spot on! I just knew it would be you. You'll be ace, love. I told that cow Rinaldi as much last term. Let me know when we're having first practice and tryouts for the newbies!"

And just as quickly as she had entered, she was gone. Zara was always a whirlwind of energy, which was why I think being a Beater suited her so well.

"Can you imagine what the sixth year girls' dormitory must be like with her living there? It would be exhausting," commented Christine, who had appeared in the doorway as Zara exited.

I shook my head, my long hair swinging back and forth. "I'd rather have Zara than what we do have - Gemma Finnegan accidentally lighting something on fire every other week and Sorcha Patterson with her poster of my dad by her bed."

In fifth year, for some reason, Sorcha decided to hang a poster of my dad beside her bed. It's an older poster taken from the middle of a magazine back from when he was new in the League and Puddlemere was advertising their new star Keeper. He was also very shirtless in the poster. Thankfully he wasn't doing anything embarrassing like flexing his muscles or winking or something.

It's a traumatizing experience to say the least, to hear Sorcha (and occasionally Gemma and Roxanne) raving on about the "Scottish sexiness" of my dad. I would agree that my father is an attractive man, but to me, he's not Oliver Wood, super hot Quidditch star. He's just Oliver Wood, my dad who also happens to be a famous Quidditch player.

Basically, I never look at Sorcha's area of the dormitory if I can help it. I take consolation in the fact that the picture was taken when he was around nineteen or twenty, so before he met my mum. It could be worse, I suppose. Sorcha could have a much more recent poster of him considering he played professionally until he was in his early forties. A more current picture would be more disturbing because even though he wouldn't be shirtless, he would be my dad as I think of him now.

It's one thing for women who are closer to his age to find him attractive, but it's another entirely when it's the seventeen-year-old girls I live with. Like I said, traumatizing.

"Two years later and I still find it disturbing as the day it began," Christine agreed with a rueful shake of the head and a grimace, her small mouth puckering in distaste. "Well, I'll be back in a bit after I'm done patrolling. Oh, and Eva?" she grinned. "One of the sixth year Hufflepuff Prefect heard what Lyra said to you, and we've taken ten points from Slytherin."

"Does that mean they have negative points before term even begins?" I wondered aloud while Kieran laughed.

"One of the perks of being Head Girl," Christine smiled innocently and pretended to flip her short brown hair as she exited.

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The Welcome Feast over, Christine and I trudged up the many flights of stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"I always eat too much at the Welcome Feast," Christine moaned, holding her stomach.

"Me too. Good thing this is the last staircase."

At the end of the hallway was the portrait of the Fat Lady and standing beneath it arguing with her were Potter and his mates.

"But no one's told us the password!" said Fred Weasley, who, along with being mates with Potter was also his cousin. "You know who we are, you could let us in just this once."

The Fat Lady puffed up indignantly. "Young man, you're always asking to be let in, 'just this once.' Well, rules are rules, and they're for everybody. No password, no entry."

"It's 'will-of-a-wisp," Christine announced to the group of boys as we approached their group.

"Correct," said the Fat Lady rather curtly as her frame swung open to reveal the portrait hole.

"Thanks," Christopher Longbottom told Christine. He's Professor Longbottom's son, and a nice bloke, so goodness knows how he got mixed up with the likes of Potter.

"Cheers ladies," Fred smiled at me and Christine before wandering off in the direction of the boys' dormitory.

"Thanks," Potter said eyes on the carpet, avoiding looking us all together.

Christine and I entered the dormitory just in time to see Sorcha whip out her Oliver Wood poster with a dramatic flourish.

"Oh, Oliver, how I've missed you," she told the poster, her voice full of yearning, as she dramatically clutched at her heart.

She had once said that her mum didn't approve of the poster and wouldn't let her hang it up in her bedroom at home, so Sorcha reserved especially it for the girls' dormitory. Lucky me.

"_Such_ a dish," she sighed as she tacked the poster to the wall behind her nightstand and next to her lamp. For good measure, she batted her blue-grey eyes at the poster and twirled her long black hair around her finger.

"Ugghh," I groaned, and fell face down on the duvet covering my four poster.

"What's wrong with Eva?" Sorcha whispered, though her attempt was more like a stage whisper.

Considering I was laying face down on my bed, all I could see was the scarlet color of the duvet, but I knew that Christine was rolling her hazel eyes.

"She ate too much," Gemma said sarcastically.

"She always does," Sorcha lamented.

Somewhere in the room, I could hear the sound of Roxanne Weasley laughing. She was another of Potter's many cousins at this school. Roxanne wasn't a bad sort. She and Gemma were friends. Sorcha spent time hanging about with them, though she also had a group of Hufflepuffs she frequently spent time with.

There was a loud popping sound like popcorn kernels bursting open in a metal pan and a shriek. Quickly pushing myself off the bed, I saw Gemma holding her wand by the very tip as purple sparks shot out the end.

"Why is it _always me_?" she cried, trying not to let the sparks land on her bedspread or the bed hangings. She had already been there done that when it came to setting her bed on fire. Twice.

"_Lovely_ to see you all again," Roxanne intoned cheerfully, a wide smile gracing the light brown skin of her face. Her words summed up the last few minutes rather well, I thought.

After we had managed to end Gemma's crisis with her wand and finished unpacking, we settled into bed. Soon enough, Sorcha's outrageously loud snores could be heard echoing around the room.

"I'll get it," Christine yawned, grabbing her wand off of her bedside table and casting a silencing charm on Sorcha.

She fell asleep so quickly and slept so deeply, that Sorcha never suspected that we always cast a silencing charm on her. As long as the first person to wake up lifted the spell, she would never be the wiser. One time in fifth year, we forgot to take the silencing charm off of before she woke up, but somehow managed to feed her some malarkey lie that involved nargles and wrackspurts.

That night I dreamt of Quidditch as I often did. I was flying high above the Gryffindor pitch with Sean O'Mara and Bree Martin, the other Gryffindor chaser. We were tossing the quaffle back and forth between us as we normally did during practices except it was just the three of us. It was quiet, just the sound of the quaffle as it smacked against our gloves.

Then suddenly the stands were filled with people, and they were all booing and jeering. Sean and Bree continued like they didn't see anyone or hear anything, but all around the sound was crushing in one me. They were jeering at me. Mocking me and my Quidditch abilities, my ability to be a good captain.

"Get off the pitch!" someone shouted.

"We want Potter!" another yelled.

Then someone took up the chant and soon the entire crowd was steadily chanting, "We want Potter! We want Potter! We want Potter!"

Waking up, I sat straight up in bed, my heart still racing from the effects of the dream. Dream. It was only a dream. Thank Merlin.

Glancing outside, I saw the first rays of sunlight peeking over the tops of the trees. My alarm clock made a small beeping noise before I tapped the button to turn it off. Otherwise Christine would murder me; she loathes waking up earlier than she has to for breakfast.

I climbed out of bed and pulled my work out clothes from my wardrobe. Once I had slipped out of my pajamas and into my shorts and t-shirt, I laced up my new running trainers and quietly left the dorm.

The castle was silent as I made my way to the large wooden door that led me out onto the Hogwarts grounds. I love being in the castle corridors and the grounds when it's so quiet. During the day, there's the nearly constant din of student voices, but right now was peaceful and quiet and I could think.

As I pushed open the door, the chilly morning air hit me and I breathed it in gratefully. I started jogging immediately, needing to clear my head after that awful dream. It doesn't take Divination to figure out that I'm worried about doing a good job as captain. That I'm worried that everyone except Christine, Zara, Kieran, and a group of Ravenclaws thinks that Potter should be the one wearing the captain's badge.

Well, looking at it rationally, if Kieran was telling the truth (and I'm certain he was, the boy is not a liar liar pants on fire) the Ravenclaw Quidditch team thought I would be captain. That's definitely something positive. Those Ravenclaws are ace at strategy and observation. They would have given the matter a lot of thought, and they're a pretty objective source.

I felt better remembering this, and I ran faster with the knowledge that at least one of our Quidditch rivals would be taking me seriously. The other teams would after our practices got underway and they saw that the Gryffindor team was no lot of slackers. We were awesome, plain and simple.

Wait. My mind whirred, thinking back to thoughts from a few moments ago. Ravenclaws…hadn't Kieran said they knew I went running in the mornings? Brilliant. I wasn't willing to give up my morning jogs, but I didn't want the Ravenclaws knowing where I was at all times either.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted the pitch, and I suddenly knew where I should take my morning run. Of course, some mornings there would be practices going on, but today it would be empty seeing as this was the first day of lessons.

Ah, stepping onto the pitch, another one of my favorite things. It was best when the stands were full and the noise was practically deafening, but it had its charms when it was quiet too.

I had been running steadily for about five minutes when a voice rang out across the pitch from the entryway. The figure watched me as I drew closer to where it was standing.

"What are you doing here, Wood?"

Potter. Good grief, what was that boy doing here at this time of the morning? He looked like had just rolled out of bed. His running clothes were rumpled and his hair was standing on end. He actually looked rather comical.

"Flying, can't you tell?" I answered sarcastically as I came to a stop about ten metres away from him.

"You don't normally run here," He looked confused, and a little irritated. Oh, right. He runs here in the mornings. I forgot that.

"No," I agreed. "But the Ravenclaws are on to me, so I decided to change locations for the day."

His eyebrows rose towards his fringe. "The Ravenclaws are on to you?" he repeated slowly, clearly trying to hold in a laugh. "Right. Well, when they ship you off to St. Mungo's in the next few days, I'll just take over the captaining duties. Much easier than trying to undermine you."

"Yes, they're on to me," I didn't bother to elaborate. Potter wasn't worth it. "Look, there's room here for both of us to run, and I'd like to finish mine… if you don't mind."

This time I was the one to walk away from him. Only I was running. But whatever.

"Just keep to the outside so that when I lap you, you won't be in my way!" Potter called to my retreating back.

I ignored him as I so often did. That boy was something else. But it was good to see that he wasn't as angry as yesterday. Merlin, he'd been down right vicious yesterday, so much so that I was a little bit worried that he was going to try and off me in my sleep.

Still, I wondered if he had been telling me the truth when he talked about undermining my efforts as captain. Was that something he was planning on doing? It would be just like Potter to tell me of some plan to get rid of me just to psyche me out and help me along in being shipped off to St. Mungo's.

Brilliant. One more thing to worry about. Darn Potter and his meddlesome, snarky ways.

Thankfully, Potter left me alone for the remainder of my run (he only managed to lap me once), and I returned to my dormitory without further harassment.

"Morning, Oliver," was the first thing I heard when I entered the dormitory. I didn't need to look to see that Sorcha was fawning over my dad's Quidditch poster again.

Hmm….maybe instead of a shower, I'll just throw myself out of a window instead. That had potential, yeah?

I peered out of the window. I could slide down the roof, and then if I had a broom waiting at the edge for me, I would free fall for a moment or two before the broom would pull me up on the air current. It would actually be quite the adrenaline rush. Not that was going to do it here. Maybe at home, though. Less far to fall.

"Whatcha doing?" Gemma asked, seeing as it was the window by her bed that I was staring out of.

"Contemplating free falling from the roof," I answered honestly. My dorm mates are used to me by now.

"Sounds terrifying," she commented casually as she tied her hair back in a ponytail.

"Don't let that bint Rinaldi get into your head," Roxanne said from across the room as she knotted her scarlet and gold striped tie. "She's full of crap. And spiteful that there's another female captain this year so the spotlights not all on her."

"It isn't that. Or it's not _just_ that," I amended. "It's Lyra _and_ Potter. And…" I jerked my head at the Quidditch poster.

Roxanne glanced up, brown eyes full of surprise. "What did James say to you?"

Oh, nothing much. Just that everyone in Hogwarts thought I was destined for failure. You know, the usual.

Not wanting to admit how much his words had affected me, I simply replied, "Oh, you know…he should have been named captain instead of me."

"Don't mind him, he's just being a sore loser, I reckon," Roxanne told me. "He's like you, isn't he? He wanted more than anything to be captain. He'll get over it." She paused as she seemed to think on what she had just said, then added, "Eventually."

_He's like you, isn't he?_ The words rang in my head. The idea of Potter being anything like me, or me being anything like Potter was sheer ludicrous. Ugh.

**Thanks for reading! Reviews, thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism welcome!**


	3. Framed by James Potter

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter Three: Framed by James Potter**_

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At the end of the year, those of us in our seventh year would take our N.E. and so accordingly the professors had piled on a ridiculous amount of schoolwork for the first day. I suppose it was to prepare us for what the rest of the year would be like. Ugh.

Still, I needed to get the word out that the Gryffindor team was holding tryouts for next Tuesday. I wanted to have tryouts as soon as possible, while also giving people time to settle in and practice up a bit. There was no such thing as starting to prepare too early when it came to Quidditch. If you start early, you're prepared to the point where the moves and plays are second nature. You're not trying to play catch up to the other teams when you're the best prepared.

To advertise tryouts, I'd recruited Zara and Bree helping me make posters about tryouts since they were the other two girls on the team. Potter would be worthless with this sort of task and would have believed it to be beneath him anyway. Nico Phelps, the other Beater, had the creative talents of a Hippogriff, meaning none whatsoever. Sean forced him to help last year, and it was a total disaster. Paint and glitter everywhere and nothing but illegible scrawl on the poster.

"How's this?" Zara held up the poster she'd been working on, and I burst out laughing.

In sparkling scarlet letters were the words, "The Quidditch team? It's awesome. And you want to be awesome, so join the Quidditch team! Tryouts on Tuesday at 5:00pm."

I looked down at the poster I had been working on. It said, "Gryffindor Quidditch Team tryouts, Tuesday 5:00pm. Needed: One Chaser, one Keeper." The words, "Gryffindor Quidditch Team" were in alternating red and gold lettering and I had added a glittery gold border, which was rather eye catching.

"You should add, 'people who can't fly not welcome,' remember last year?" Zara shook her head remorsefully.

Last year two third year girls had shown up to tryouts merely because they both fancied Potter (what was wrong with them?!) and wanted to impress him. However, seeing as they couldn't fly five feet off of the ground, Potter was anything but impressed. Sean told them to get lost, and they did. Not literally, mind. Figuratively.

"What about: If you're awesome, you know what's happening at 5:00pm on Tuesday at the Quidditch pitch," suggested Bree.

Zara delicately added some more red paint to her poster and said, "I was also thinking about doing one up that says: Want to have abs like James Potter? Then join the Quidditch team!"

Okay, I'd be blind if I didn't notice that Potter was rather, uh…_fit._ But I was not having that on a poster. In the common room. In broad daylight. People might see it.

"Pass," I scrunched up my nose in extreme distaste.

"Aw, c'mon, we'll hang it in the boys' stairwell. It'll give them all a laugh."

All right, having that in the boys' side wouldn't be so bad. As long as my informational poster got hung up on the common room notice board where people could see it, I didn't care (too much) what the other posters looked like.

"Forget Potter, we could do a poster about Nico," I suggested. "He's cute in a fifth year sort of way. It would also bring Potter down a peg to see another bloke mentioned on a poster."

"Do it," Bree agreed. "I think Nico's cute, even if I am a year older than him. It would give him a confidence boost. I saw him earlier and he seemed a little down that he barely grew at all over the summer."

"Poor little chap." Zara sighed with compassion. "Maybe he'll never grow and he'll always be our Little Chap."

"Don't let him hear you say that," I recommended, thinking of Nico's slightly delicate feelings regarding his short height and small frame. As long as his small stature didn't stop him from being a brilliant Beater, I didn't care how short or tall he was.

"Ooh, how about, this:" Bree giggled. "Want to see James Potter's abs every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday? Then join the Quidditch team!"

"_That's_ the one we should hang in the boys' stairwell." Zara mused with a wicked smirk.

And so we did.

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"How come I wasn't invited to the sign making party?"

I looked up from Charms homework to see James Potter standing over my library table. Beside me, Christine and Kieran also raised their heads a bit before realizing who it was and going back to their work.

"You _wanted_ to be invited?" I asked, dipping my quill in the pot of ink resting in front of me.

Somehow I highly doubted that Potter had wanted to decorate signs with glitter.

"No, but I had a good idea for a sign," Potter said, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Want to see Eva Wood's arse in a pair of workout shorts every Monday, Wednesday and Friday? Then join the Quidditch team!"

"Five points for vulgarity, Potter," Christine intoned without even pausing from writing her essay.

"Taking points from your own house, Elliot?" Potter drawled, not seeming to be remotely affected by the loss of House points.

"It's called fairly enforcing the rules," Christine replied evenly.

I set down my quill and looked Potter in the face. "You're telling me that you were offended by the poster Zara made?"

Considering we played Quidditch through autumn, winter, and spring, it wasn't as though Potter walked around shirtless at practice. But on the rare occasion that he and other boys had removed their shirts to cool down, it wasn't as though he'd been shy.

Something wasn't right here.

"Not in the least," Potter replied, a smirk creeping on to his face.

Something _really_ wasn't right here.

"I thought it was a good laugh. And I reckon it's only going to get funnier."

Something really_, really_ wasn't right here.

Potter sauntered off looking entirely too smug for my liking. I was wary, but I tried to put Potter's strange behavior to the back of my mind. Previous years gave me a lot of practice, so it wasn't too hard to do.

That was probably why upon returning to the common room an hour later (Christine was off snogging Kieran goodnight), I was completely surprised to find Professor McGonagall waiting for me.

"Miss Wood, what is the meaning of this?" McGonagall demanded, thrusting a hand in the direction of the boys' stairwell where Zara, Bree, and I had hung the sign about viewing James Potter's abs multiple days of the week.

The other students who were still in the common room kept quiet, pretending to study while actually watching everything eagerly. I know because I've done it before when Potter was being given detention for making it snow in the common room.

"It's just advertising tryouts." I defended myself. "That one's just for a laugh, really."

Seriously, why was the Headmistress in my common room to lecture me about putting up signs? If anyone was going to lecture me, why wasn't it my Head of House, Professor Longbottom?

"I'm not laughing, Miss Wood," McGonagall said sternly. "Defacement of school property is against the rules and is a very serious matter."

Defacement of school property? What was she talking about?

"I don't understand…" I trailed off as McGonagall attempted to take down the poster, but it remained firmly attached to the wall. Nothing she did was making any difference no matter how hard she pulled or what spell she cast on it.

Oh. Sweet. Merlin. It was permanently stuck to the wall. A poster advertising the viewing of James Potter's abdominal muscles was permanently stuck to the boys' stairwell wall.

But…but…I had put up that poster myself! I used regular old Spello-tape! How did this happen?

"You were the one responsible for hanging these posters, were you not, Miss Wood?"

"Well, yes, but – " I began, my stomach dropping uncomfortably. But Professor McGonagall was not having any of it.

"Detention tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday, Miss Wood. And I'll be writing to your parents," she informed me in a disappointed Scottish brogue before sweeping from the common room.

The result of my first task as captain had landed me in detention. Just excellent. This never happened to Sean last year. I bet this never happened to Dad either. The worst part was that it truly wasn't my fault. I had no idea who put a permanent sticking charm on that poster, but it wasn't the girls and me. I'd had detention before, but never this many times in a row or so early in the term.

From the across the room I made eye contact with James Potter. He was sitting by the fireplace, just sitting there watching me flounder wearing the mother of all smirks.

Holy hippogriffs, I'd been framed by James Potter.

What a git.

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I slouched into detention the next evening after dinner feeling decidedly peeved. If I had wanted to, I was certain that I could have found a way to prove my innocence. Christine had suggested _priori incantatem_, but I didn't want to cause a fuss. Besides, if I went to Longbottom or McGonagall, it would prove to Potter that he'd gotten under my skin, and I couldn't let him know that. I would take my punishment calmly, and get Potter back at some later date.

I came to a stop so sudden that I had to grasp the doorframe out of surprise, because sitting at a desk in the middle of the classroom was James Potter.

_Why _in the name of Merlin's pants did he have to be everywhere?

He had been staring at the desk, but he looked up when I entered the classroom.

"Fancy seeing you in detention," he said, casually. He tilted his chair so that it was balancing on two legs, and I resisted the urge to kick the chair clean out from under him.

"What are _you_ doing here?" I asked harshly.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Dropped an enchanted water balloon on Malfoy in front of McGonagall."

"Aren't you supposed to harass the Slytherins _behind_ the professors' backs and not right under their noses?"

"Maybe I wanted detention."

"Nobody wants _detention_," I scoffed. Argh, this boy was infuriating.

"Take a seat, Miss Wood," Professor McGonagall instructed as she strode into the classroom.

I did as I was told, and in my haste, chose the seat directly across the aisle from Potter. Merlin, could I get any thicker? I could have chosen the desk in the farthest corner of the room and yet I chose the one directly across from Potter. Good grief.

"The pair of you will be helping me grade the quizzes administered to the second, fourth, and fifth years today. Mr. Potter, you can have Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and Miss Wood, you can have Gryffindor and Slytherin. I will of course be checking your work once you have finished."

"How come you get to do Gryffindor?" Potter petulantly asked me, frowning at the sheaf of parchment McGonagall handed to me.

"Because," McGonagall answered for me, "Miss Wood will not allow her House bias to influence the marks she assigns students."

I flashed him a triumphant grin when McGonagall wasn't looking. Ha, take that Potter.

"Professor, just because I'd give all the Slytherins a T doesn't mean that I'm biased," Potter said, shooting her a winning smile.

"Too much like your grandfather for your own good," McGonagall told him sternly, but her lips twitched a bit as if she were holding back a smile.

We set to work while McGonagall sat at her desk at the front of the classroom writing on a sheet of parchment and glancing at a book opened beside her every now and then.

The second years' quizzes were absurdly easy (from a seventh year standpoint, anyway) and it didn't take me much time to make my way through the stack.

One girl had obviously forgotten the _wingardium leviosa_ spell, and for her answer regarding how to make objects fly, she had written, "Pick it up and throw it." I wanted to give her a half of a point for creativity, but I suspected McGonagall wouldn't accept that.

The fifth years' were more difficult and a few times I had to double check with the answer key that McGonagall had provided us. Nico Phelps had done moderately well, which I was relieved to see. I would have hated to worry about him needing to raise his marks to avoid suspension from the team. I also noted that Richard and Gareth had done well, which would be a relief to Mum.

When I had finished, I rose and handed the stack of parchment over to Professor McGonagall. Behind me, Potter quickly stood up as well.

"Thank you, Miss Wood. I will see you tomorrow. Thank you Mr. Potter," she told us, and then we were free to go.

It occurred to me in the moment we were exiting the classroom that we would both be going to Gryffindor Tower, which meant we would be walking back together.

After a moment or two of awkward silence, I said, "Lily did well on her quiz," referring to James's youngest sibling and only sister.

Potter raised an eyebrow. "_That's_ what you come up with to break the awkward silence and tension? 'Lily did well on her quiz'?"

"Well, I didn't see you speaking up!" I cried indignantly. I tried to start a nice, normal conversation with the bloke and he turned it into something bigger than it needs to be. What rubbish.

"Maybe I was going to," He countered, drawing out the 'may' in 'maybe.'

"Then spare me and just say whatever it is you were going to say."

"Lily's thinking of going out for the team." He held the door to a passageway open for me and I ducked by him, our arms accidently brushing.

Oh. I wasn't expecting that at all. But that's good! That Lily wants to try out, I mean.

"That's brilliant! Girl power and all," I added. "And it wouldn't hurt to have another younger player so that Nico isn't the youngest. Otherwise all the older students will graduate and he'll have to build a team from the ground up."

Potter gave me a somewhat derisive look. "But don't you think it's also important to select based on talent and not on age alone? What if someone in seventh year tries out?

"I do think that skill, willingness to work hard, and ability to work as a part of a team are the most important qualities to look for in a prospective team member," I amended. "But for the sake of the future team, I hope that a qualified fifth year tries out."

"What about your brothers?" he asked suddenly as we made our way up another staircase. "Aren't they going to try out?"

"Not Gareth," I shook my head. "He wants to be a trainer, not a player. He's an excellent Beater and he knows Quidditch inside out, but he'd rather be on the sidelines doing the support work than be on the pitch."

"Your dad doesn't mind?" Potter asked inquisitively.

I shook my head. "I mean, if Gareth did want to play, Dad would be thrilled, but he knows how to play and he loves the sport, so that's good enough for Dad. Besides, Gareth still wants to go into a career that has to do with Quidditch."

"And Richard?"

I shrugged. "He hasn't said anything to me, but then fifteen year old boys don't tend to confide in their older sisters."

"He was considered a reserve last year," James commented. "He was good then, I remember. Plus, with you as captain, he's bound to be picked."

I couldn't tell if this was Potter being his usual self that liked to make little jabs at me and wind me up, or if he seriously thought I would just let my brother on the team regardless of how he preformed at tryouts. Surely Potter has to know how seriously I take this. I would never let Richard on the team if he didn't prove he deserved to be there.

"Not at all."

"Oh, really?" Potter smirked the smirk he reserved especially for winding me up. Ah, so he did know. Good.

"Really. I'm going to put everyone through the same strenuous set of exercises."

"But he knows you. Won't he know what's coming?"

I smiled. "Nope. I've thought up something original that we've never done at tryouts before. No one will have an edge except when it comes to perseverance and skill."

"Sounds wonky to me," James replied as we rounded the last corner before the corridor that led to the Fat Lady.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that seeing as I'm the captain and not you?"

Whoops, I hadn't meant to throw my captaincy in his face. Not that he didn't deserve it, but still.

"Will-of-a-whisp," he told the Fat Lady solemnly.

I couldn't think of anything else to say just then, so I settled on, "Goodnight, Potter" before heading off in the direction of the girls' staircase.

"Night, Wood."

Entering the dormitory, I saw Christine was the only one there. She was sitting on her bed propped up against the headboard reading our Transfiguration textbook, which reminded me that I should probably do my homework. Especially considering I was already on the bad side of the headmistress and it was only day three of the term.

"How was detention?" she asked, looking up.

"Potter was there," was all the answer I needed to give.

Christine winced slightly. "He's been quite nasty to you this year, hasn't he? You always had your rivalry and it was a little snarky at times to be sure, but he never purposefully said things that would hurt you."

I took off my robes and threw them on the end of my bed with a sigh of frustration. "I'd noticed. I understand that he's upset that he wasn't named captain – I would have been too – but…it's..."

"Perhaps he's not over you being named captain," she suggested thoughtfully. "It's a huge blow to him. I heard Fred talking to Roxanne about it in the common room. You know being captain automatically puts you on the radar for scouts."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed again, yanking off my Gryffindor tie and hanging it up in my wardrobe. "But Potter's going to have scouts after him because his mum played professionally and he's Harry Potter's son - they'll want to see if he's any good."

Christine had a thoughtful expression on her face as she said, "Perhaps he wanted to be noticed for his own merits."

"Ha," I laughed scornfully. "Potter will take any recognition he can get, no matter how it comes to him."

"There's your owl," Christine told me, pointing to the open window and effectively ending our conversation about Potter.

Oh, right, McGonagall did say she would be writing to my parents. Just splendid.

Sure enough, the family owl, Waffle, was just settling onto the windowsill and folding his wings under. Ah, good old Waffle.

The poor bird had originally been named Quaffle in a unanimous decision by my Quidditch loving family, but when we first bought him, Richard and Gareth were only three and the bird's name came out as Waffle instead of Quaffle.

Tristan and I thought it was hysterical, so we took to calling him Waffle too. It's close enough sounding that I don't think our owl knew that his name had been changed, but I always felt a little sorry for the bird who had started out with a totally awesome Quidditch related name and instead been given the name of a breakfast food item.

Opening the letter, I immediately recognized my mum's handwriting.

_Dear Eva,_

_Your father and I received a letter from Professor McGonagall saying that you have been defacing school property. Something about an inappropriate poster being displayed in the boys' dormitory stairwell using a permanent sticking charm? This doesn't sounds like you. Please let us know what is going on._

_I'm assuming that you'll be scheduling tryouts for the team soon? Has Richard said if he'll be trying out for the team instead of being a reserve? Your father asked, but all he would say was that he wasn't certain yet. I hope he does, it would do him good to spend time with some other people and maybe give him a little more confidence with girls._

_Your father wanted to include a list of tips for how to conduct tryouts, but I convinced him to let you do this on your own. Have fun with Quidditch, and remember to keep up on your studies._

_Much love,_

_Mum_

_P.S. Your father says to keep your elbows tucked in. _

Oh, Merlin.

The door to the dormitory swung open and Sorcha waltzed in followed by Gemma and Roxanne.

"_Look_ at what my older sister sent me!" she practically squealed, thrusting something colorful and rectangle shaped into my face.

"Um…I can't _see anything_ at this close range," I explained.

The object was pulled back several centimeters and I suddenly realized that Sorcha's sister had sent her a Quidditch magazine. But not just any Quidditch magazine – a vintage magazine from 1996.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no. _Please_ don't let that be what I think it is.

"It's the first issue of _Quidditch Weekly_ that Oliver Wood was ever photographed in! They did an exclusive photo shoot because he was the newest player on team! And, I mean, he's pictured with some of the other team members, but there's a couple with only him! "

I did know all of this, strangely enough. It's what happens when you live under the same roof as Oliver Wood and have a passion for all things Quidditch.

"Sorcha," I said slowly, feeling it was time to say something about this obsession with pictures of my father when he was younger, "You know Oliver Wood is my _dad_, yeah?"

"Of course," she said brightly. "I've seen him with you at Platform 9 ¾, but I've always been too shy to say anything."

Holy Hippogriffs! I had never considered that any time my mum and dad were at Platform 9 3/4 that Sorcha was perfectly able to approach him. Actually, I'm glad I had never thought about it otherwise I would have been living in fear all these years.

Behind Sorcha, Roxanne was covering her mouth with her hands to keep from laughing out loud. I was about to finish saying what I set out to, when Sorcha cut across me.

"_Oh my gosh_! You could totally get me pictures!" She looked like someone had just announced that Honeydukes was giving away free chocolate by the kilo.

All I could process was, "Uuuhhh….."

"She can't, it's a copyright matter," Christine piped up. I made a mental note to hug her later. "The company that took the pictures owns them."

"Oh, oh well," Sorcha said, still looking absurdly cheerful. "I can always buy the magazines."

That night I dreamt of Sorcha accosting my dad as he and my mum collected Gareth, Richard, and me from the Hogwarts Express. She viciously pushed my mum onto the train track and then suddenly Potter and Lyra Rinaldi were there and they were helping Sorcha to kidnap my dad. I woke up panting and in a cold sweat.

Perhaps my subconscious is telling me that Sorcha, Potter, and Lyra are out to get me. I dearly hope my subconscious is wrong.

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**Thanks for reading!** Reviews, thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism welcome! I reply to all signed reviews and I love answering questions/talking about my story. :)


	4. Introducing a Hufflepuff

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_Chapter Four: Introducing a Hufflepuff_

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That morning the owl post brought me a letter from Tristan, which also served to remind me that I needed to write my parents about the whole defacing school property debacle.

_Dear Eva, _

_I'm guessing by now that Potter's already managed to get under your skin. Don't let him bother you too much. You're a brilliant Quidditch player, and you're going to be an outstanding captain. You'll show him when Gryffindor takes down Slytherin in the first match!_

_Before you lot went back to Hogwarts, Richard talked to me about going out for the team. I know you can't personally tell him to go for it or anything since that would be a conflict of interest, but I dunno…maybe say _something_ to him._

_Not much new here. They're teaching the reserves the new offensive strategy this week, so that should be something different, finally. Took them bloody well long enough to give us something to do around here._

_Best of luck with tryouts! _

_Tristan_

_P.S. Remember to tuck in your elbows. _

"Still haven't been shipped off to St. Mungo's, I see," was how James Potter greeted me as he approached Christine and me as we sat eating our lunch later that day after a busy morning of Transfiguration and Potions.

"I managed to outwit the Ravenclaws," I replied as I poured myself some more water.

Christine shot me a look of pure confusion while Potter chuckled.

"I reckon I need to be paying them more, then. Five galleons each should cover it."

"Oh, so you're behind this?" I asked, eyebrow perfectly arched.

At least I can be certain that he's joking about giving the Ravenclaw team information about me. He's too loyal and he has too much Gryffindor pride to ever do something so deceitful.

Also, he doesn't actually know what I meant by my statement, "The Ravenclaws are on to me." He just thinks I'm a nutter. Which, you know…that's probably a fair enough statement on quite a few days out of the year.

He shrugged and grabbed a blueberry scone off of the platter in the middle of the table.

"Have to get rid of you somehow. It's part of my evil plot to take over the Quidditch team."

"Don't even joke about that," I told him wearily.

"Who's joking?"

Then he was striding away to sit with Fred and Christopher at the other end of the table.

Darn him making a point to come all the way over here just to harass me and try to intimidate me. Good thing I'm not easily intimidated; having three brothers toughens you up.

"_What_ was that about?" Christine asked, having watched the entire exchange between me and Potter with an expression that can only be described as beyond curious.

"I told Potter about the Ravenclaws being on to me, and now he thinks I'm right mental and that they'll be shipping me off to St. Mungo's and that he can take over as captain."

Christine slowly blinked once, and then twice, head tilted slightly to the side. "Based on that statement I'm thinking that he's not entirely wrong in his suggestion that they'll be shipping you off to St. Mungo's."

"Ask Kieran, he'll tell you."

"Tell you what?" Kieran asked, appearing suddenly behind Christine, who beamed at the sight of her boyfriend. It would be downright sickening if it weren't so bleeding sweet.

"That I'm not mental and that the Ravenclaws _are_ on to me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied, but his bright blue eyes were sparkling and he was having difficulty keeping a smile off of his face.

"Liar!" I threw a scone at him for good measure. It hit its mark, naturally. I _am _a Chaser.

"Let's get to Charms before everyone steals all the good seats." Christine suggested, standing up and taking Kieran's hand.

"By 'good seats' I suppose you mean the ones in front?" I preferred the middle of the classroom myself, but Christine always made us sit right up front. She says it's so she can see the chalkboard better. I say it's because she's a swot.

"Of course," Christine and Kieran answered at the same time. Then they smiled at each other.

On the way out of the Great Hall, I stopped to affectionately ruffle Gareth and Richard's hair as they sat with their friends. They protested, but I know they secretly love it.

Once in the Charms classroom Kieran and I sat on either side of Christine at a table for four, with an empty seat next to me. I sat there hoping that this year Sorcha chose to sit somewhere else. I wasn't sure I could take another year of her asking strange questions about my dad.

I'm used to people asking questions about Dad, but typically they're normal questions like, "Did he always want to play for Puddlemere?" "How did he meet your mum?" Stuff like that.

But Sorcha asks disturbing questions such as, "His hair looks so nice, what brand of shampoo does he use?"

First of all, I don't even know the answer to that question. Second, it is just plain weird that she wants to know something like that. Third, I don't even know what she wants to do with that information.

Thankfully, I was spared and the seat next to me remained empty as Sorcha chose to sit with Roxanne and Gemma. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Later in the afternoon was Herbology. Christine had dropped this class after her O. so that she could focus on Ancient Runes and History of Magic. The fact that she wants to take those lessons sounds odd to most students around here, but Christine wanted to go into wizarding archeology and preservation. I swear that girl should have been a Ravenclaw.

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The next morning found me making my way to Herbology after a long Arithmancy lesson. I needed one more lesson to fill my schedule, so I had kept on with Herbology, even though I didn't care much for the subject.

Last year and for the first few lessons of this term, I had been partners with Christopher Longbottom. His dad was the professor, which meant he knows loads about the subject. With Christopher as my partner, I had achieved my highest marks ever in Herbology.

As I wandered into the classroom, I saw Christopher sitting next to Savitri Shrikande looking thoroughly engrossed in what she was saying, his eyes glued to her pale brown face and dark eyes. What was he doing all the way over there?

"Hello, Christopher," I said, walking up to him and Savitri.

"Oh, hi, Eva," he said, a slight look of guilt crossing over his fair features. "I was thinking Savitri and I work together." He widened his eyes meaningfully, and I finally caught on.

Christopher fancied Savitri…._oh_. That's why he wanted to sit next to her. But who would be my partner?

"Jonathan doesn't have a partner yet, you could pair up with him," Savitri suggested in a friendly attempt to be helpful. She motioned to a boy wearing Hufflepuff robes sitting to the right of her. He had short light brown hair and green eyes hidden behind trendy looking glasses. The Head Boy badge gleamed brightly on the front of his robes.

"Oh, of course," I replied. I couldn't exactly say 'no,' now could I? Bugger.

"Jonathan Grant," he said politely, standing up and sticking out his hand. I took it and he gave it a firm shake.

"Eva Wood," I replied, letting go of his hand and settling into the vacant spot on the well-worn wooden bench.

"You have an interesting accent," Jonathan commented.

I shrugged, not exactly sure of how to respond to a statement like that. "I suppose that's what happens when one parent has an English accent and the other has a Scottish accent."

"Yours is mostly southern English, but with some of the Scottish inflection," he observed.

"Yours is all Manchester," I replied.

Jonathan grinned broadly. "How could you tell?" he joked.

That lesson, Professor Longbottom had us carefully plant mandrake seeds to ease us back into schoolwork. Not that the work was a complete walk in the park. Mandrake seeds were volatile and need to be planted in a very specific way in order to grow properly.

"That's three centimetres down," Jonathan marked the side of the seed tray.

I carefully spread a thin layer of dirt on the bottom of the tray, and then Jonathan gently laid a single Mandrake seed in the middle of the square of dirt. The remaining space in the tray was filled with dirt, and then we added two millimetres of water.

"So," I said as we worked on the next tray. "Hufflepuff, huh?"

"And proud of it," Jonathan smiled. "Being in Hufflepuff and learning about all of the things that Helga Hufflepuff as well as other well known alumnus believed in has led me to my career path."

"Oh?" I was always curious what people wanted to do with their lives. With both of my parents and now older brother heavily involved in the world of Quidditch, it was difficult to imagine having a career that didn't somehow relate to Quidditch.

"I want to work in wizarding and magical beings relations. You know, help pass laws about the rights of house-elves and goblins. Legislate and enforce fair practices and educate the public."

Wow, talk about making a girl's career goals seem small. I want to fly around on a broomstick tossing a ball between myself and two other people while dodging two other balls that two people hit at us. Meanwhile, Jonathan wants to work for the equality of all magical beings in order to make the world a better place.

"That's fantastic," I told him. "I didn't know all those ideas were from Helga Hufflepuff."

"She was a huge proponent of tolerance and inclusively. Sometimes people think that all the leftovers end up in Hufflepuff, but that's not true at all from what I've seen. There are a lot of different types, but we're all quite hardworking, loyal, and purpose-driven."

"Sounds like a Quidditch captain's dream," I smiled to myself.

Yes, I do think largely in terms of Quidditch. I'm pretty certain it's just how my brain is hardwired. I don't think I ever stood a chance for it to be otherwise.

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The rest of the week went by quickly enough. Professors piled on our homework while lessons themselves were long and challenging. My two remaining detentions had consisted of writing lines and scrubbing the trophy room, which had been less than fun.

I had sent Waffle off with a letter to my parents assuring them that I had not been permanently sticking posters to the stairwell walls. I didn't want to admit that Potter had framed me, but I also didn't want to pass the blame off on someone innocent. So, I said that I had received the blame because I had been in charge of hanging up the signs, which was partially true. It still sounded a little sketchy, but maybe my parents wouldn't notice.

Now that Saturday was here, I was eager to finalize my plans for Quidditch tryouts. Friday morning had alerted everyone currently on the team that we were going to meet on Saturday morning bright and early to go over what I had in mind.

When I arrived at the pitch, I saw to my surprise that someone had actually beaten me there. Then I saw that it was Potter, and I wasn't surprised at all. He was dressed for practice, in shorts and a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt that had seen better days. I had to give him credit for wearing for a Harpies shirt. Not many blokes do.

"Isn't the captain supposed to be the first one here?" he called as I approached.

"You just got here first to spite me," I accused him, switching my broom to my other hand in what I hoped was a slightly menacing manner.

"You should have planned ahead for that. A good captain considers all eventualities."

"Bugger off and stop acting as if you're the only one who knows anything around here, Potter. I'm here an hour early; I'm taking this perfectly seriously."

While I waited for everyone else to arrive, I tidied up the Gryffindor locker rooms and looked over the extensive notes I had made concerning what I wanted to talk to the team about. I had already reviewed my notes multiple times, but once more wouldn't hurt.

About fifteen minutes to 8:00, Zara and Bree showed up looking a bit tired yet. They sat down in the still damp grass in front of me and Bree rested her head on Zara's shoulder.

"Morning, Captain," Zara yawned, giving me a small salute.

I couldn't help but grin at her words. That's right, I was the captain. Not Potter, me.

Nico was his usual very awake self when he arrived. "Hiya!" he said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

"Hey, Little Chap," Zara greeted him. "I've missed you."

Nico narrowed his eyes at Zara's use of her nickname for him. Unfortunately for Nico, it fit him well and everybody on the team, as well as a few outside of it, had taken to referring to him as Little Chap.

"You know perfectly well how I feel about that name," he said in a clipped tone.

"Yeah, we know," Potter grinned lazily at him. "We just don't care, mate."

"Sorry," I offered Nico a sympathetic smile. "But hey, who cares if you're not very tall? You're one of the best Beaters in the school. You have more power than that giant hulk Slytherin had playing Beater last year."

Nico looked very pleased by my words and I felt very pleased that I had managed to cheer him up. Captaincy success!

"Now, everything we do and discuss here today is to be kept a complete secret. What we're discussing doesn't leave this pitch, you got it?" I told my team. Every one nodded and Nico gave me a thumbs up.

"Here's what I have in mind for Tuesday."

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When Potions finally let out on Tuesday afternoon, I practically knocked over my stool in my haste to be the first one out of the classroom. I didn't even say goodbye to Christine; I just bolted.

Unfortunately, even though I had a serious head start, Potter still somehow managed to beat me to the pitch.

"Argh!" I cried in frustration when I saw him standing a few metres away from the locker room doors. "_Why_ do you have to be this way?"

"The same reason you do," he said, pushing his jet black hair out of his eyes.

Well, that just makes loads of sense. Or not.

"Whatever. Help me get the gear out, will you?" I asked, starting towards the locker rooms.

"It's already done."

I stopped short. "What?"

Potter wordlessly pointed to the trunk that held the Quidditch balls, as well as the crate of spare Beater's bats and spare arm and shin guards. They had been sitting not five metres from me, but I'd missed it completely.

"I…well…." I spluttered, taken completely off guard. Was this Potter trying to be helpful, or was this Potter trying to undermine me and do the tasks that as captain were supposed to be mine?

"I figured I should help a bit so that at least one thing is done properly."

Should have expected that, I suppose.

"I _don't_ need help from the likes of _you_, Potter," I told him.

Potter crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at me, brown eyes flashing. "You'll be begging for help after a few weeks. You're captain because your dad is Oliver Wood and you were snogging O'Mara."

Where does this idiot get his facts? He seriously needs a new source.

"That's a load of tripe! My family has nothing to do with why I was chosen captain. And I never snogged Sean in my life! He was my friend. I never fancied _him_ any more than I ever fancied _you_."

Potter's jaw twitched and his stance became more rigid. I knew that look on his face, the one that said he was in the mood for a row.

Just then, Nico came bounding into view, his dark auburn hair flopping into his face. "Why did you schedule tryouts during dinner? I'm a bit peckish after a full afternoon of classes."

"Because it means that the ones who skive off dinner are more likely to be dedicated team members," Potter said before I'd gotten a chance to open my mouth.

Potter was absolutely spot on. I'd planned it exactly the way he said. A pox on him for knowing my motivations.

"He's correct," I reluctantly admitted to Nico. "It's just one more method of weeding down potential candidates. If they're not willing to interrupt their schedule for try outs, they won't be willing to interrupt their schedule for practices and I don't want people like that on my team."

"Our team," Potter corrected me.

I shot him the most withering glare I could muster. "Potter, I am your captain, so _shut your face_!"

Potter's eyebrows shot upwards towards his fringe and his eyes widened. I'm not sure that I'd ever been so sharp with him before. Brilliant, he's finally driven me round the bend.

Nico was standing stock still with wide eyes and slightly open mouth. A bit like a fish, really.

Potter opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when Zara chose that moment to approach me from behind and sling her brown arm around my shoulders.

"Hey there, fearless captain!" she grinned widely, teeth gleaming against her dark skin.

"I'm here, I'm here!" Bree called, hurrying up to our small group. "Sorry, Flitwick kept me behind to talk about how rubbish I am at Charms."

"Okay, team," I said, a thrill shooting through me as I said the words. "It will be just liked we discussed and practiced on Saturday. Ultimately, the decision will be mine, but I want your honest input about how the players fit in with the team – what kind of dynamic we get. I'm looking for team players, here. That's something hard to teach if it's not already ingrained in them and I'd rather spend my time perfecting plays than lecturing them about not hogging the Quaffle or the like."

I was expecting Potter to throw his own unwanted opinion in somewhere, but he seemed to be restraining himself. About bloody time, too.

"Of course," I added, "we certainly want players with talent and potential, so keep your eyes and ears open. We want to find the best possible fits to complete our team."

There was a decent sized crowd forming near the stadium entrance and I surveyed them all with a critical eye. They were a respectable looking bunch. I noticed that there were fewer giggling girls in the stands this time.

Christine and Kieran waved to me cheerfully from their vantage point in one of the stands. Sitting next to them were Gemma and Roxanne who waved as well. I barely had time to wonder what they were doing there before it was time to address the crowd of potential teammates.

"All right, Gryffindor," I said firmly, "let's find a Chaser and a Keeper."

Thanks for reading! Reviews, thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism welcome! I reply to all signed reviews and I love answering questions/talking about my story. :)

Coming up next chapter: Quidditch tryouts – at which James says a couple of things that take Eva by surprise.


	5. Too Odd to Contemplate

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_Chapter Five: Too Odd to Contemplate_

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AN: Wow – I can hardly believe that amazing response to last chapter! I received nearly as many reviews for chapter four than for the other three combined. Thanks so much for all of the encouragement and comments! :)

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"Listen up everyone," I called to the large group of hopefuls standing in front of me. I clutched my trusty clipboard in front of me and looked down at the names printed on the paper. "This is going to be a different kind of Quidditch tryout. I've designed it a specific way in order to find both the most skilled athletes and the most able to work as a member of a team."

In the crowd, I saw Lily Potter tying back her long red hair, her jaw set. Her determined facial expression reminded me a lot of Potter when he was getting ready for a match. Richard was standing tall with his shoulders squared as he stared straight ahead. I wasn't sure if he was blinking his stare was so intense.

There were a few others who looked just as determined. A boy named Sidney Mason was rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms and fingers. A girl I recognized as Jessica Walters was taking deep, calming breaths. Several of the remaining lot looked a little unsure of why they had chosen to skip out on their evening meal to be here.

"Everything that you'll be doing, the current team members will be doing as well. We'll all be evaluating everything you do while you are on this pitch. Ready?"

I turned and nodded to my fellow team members and as instructed they set their brooms gently on the ground.

"Ten laps around the pitch everyone," I commanded as the team broke out into a jog and moved to the outside of the pitch.

Most of the hopefuls parted from the group and joined in with the team. However, a few remained behind, wearing expressions of disbelief.

"Laps?" A tall, stocky fourth year questioned with an air of irritation. "This is Quidditch, not a foot race."

"Quidditch takes endurance, and doing laps is a great way to build up endurance," I explained, feeling smug that my plan was already working. The kids with attitudes like this would eliminate themselves through their lack of dedication and unwillingness to follow orders.

"Shouldn't we be _flying_ laps?" he persisted, leaning on his broom.

I noticed that his broom was a rather fancy Swisher model. More for lackadaisical afternoon flying for pleasure than for a real Quidditch match. My dad didn't even own a Swisher because he said they weren't for "real flying."

"Look," I put my hands on my hips in an authoritative stance. "This is the way we do things here on the Gryffindor team. If you lot," I addressed the seven students staring back at me, "still want to be considered for a spot on the team, then start running. If not, there's plenty of time for you to make it to dinner."

Two students – one of them the tall fourth year boy – turned and walked away towards the castle. The other five set down their brooms and began running. They were far behind the rest, but the main group did have a few stragglers.

Ten laps around was a long distance, I knew. Even the regular team members would be tired. Except for maybe Potter because, like me, he went running on his own time.

Breaking into a sprint, I raced to catch up with the team. I felt rather like an idiot carrying my clipboard with me while I ran, but I was going to need it to make notes on those trying out for the team.

In my last days of summer holiday, I had planned the basis for this tryout as well as created a special code for scoring the team hopefuls. Every activity we did had a letter code – endurance was AB – and a corresponding number determining how high or low they performed on each activity.

From my vantage point at the back of group, I monitored how everyone ran. A few were slowly jogging as though they were just trying to get past this stage of the tryouts and on to what they considered the important part. One particularly small girl who looked to be a second year by the size of her was moving her arms like a windmill, and everyone around her was accordingly giving her a wide berth lest they be walloped in the face.

Pride welled up inside of me to see Richard's feet pressing meaningfully into the ground with each step he took and his arms moving rhythmically with strength. Just behind him, Lily was running with the fire of determination in her brown eyes, her ponytail whipping through the air behind her.

Next to both of their names I wrote AB -10.

Others were not so fortunate. Of course, they weren't giving it their all either. I wasn't looking at who was jogging or running the fastest. Sidney Mason scored an AB – 9 and he was running in the middle, and a girl named Maggie was near the end and scored an AB – 9.5. I was marking based on who had followed my orders the first time and who was giving this aspect of the try out everything they had. Speed didn't count, but hard work and perseverance surely did.

After the ten laps had been completed, I allowed everyone to take a few minutes to stretch and to take a drink of water. Then it was time to really confuse them.

"I'm going to number you off into groups," I informed them. "When I've given you a number, find the team member with your same number. James is one, Bree is two, Zara is three, Nico is four. I'll be walking around monitoring and making notes."

To me, this was the most ingenious part of my tryouts plan. No one would see this coming. _No one_. I tried not to be too gleeful, but the looks on some of the student's faces were priceless as they realized what I had in mind.

Once the groups were established, the team members began the activities that we had discussed on Saturday. They started with basic get to know each other games, and moved on to trust and teamwork building exercises.

As I walked among the groups, I observed how the various students reacted to the games and exercises. More than a few looked confused, but they were still participating. By now, it had become clear to them that I had some sort of plan no matter how strange it might seem at the moment.

Potter had initially been the strongest objector to the get-to-know-you games, but once I had explained that the point was to see how patient, willing to follow instructions, and willing to get to know their fellow teammates the team hopefuls were, he grudgingly accepted my decision.

As I came up behind him, I heard him announce to his group, "All right group, now this next one is a bit wonky."

"Then why are we doing it?" a girl with an upturned nose asked. "I came here to show that I could fly, not play games like a bunch of primary school girl Guides."

"Oi," Potter snapped at her. "Eva's the captain, and you either respect her and follow her instructions or forget about being picked. You know that we're judging you on your ability to be a team player, yeah? There's no room for selfish stars on this team."

His words had me reeling in such a way that I thought maybe someone had taken it upon themselves to Confundus me. I couldn't go over there now and let him know that I'd heard what he had said, how he had stood up for me to that stroppy cow.

Moving on to the next group, I monitored them as they blindfolded one person and then had them fall backwards to be caught by their fellow group members. Richard was in that group, and he was a little wary to allow himself to fall backwards into the arms of two fourth year girls. I understood why he would feel that way, but I had to give him a lower mark nonetheless.

Returning to Potter's group, I was just in time to see Robbie King and Euan Finnegan nearly drop Jessica Walters. Potter deftly caught her before she could come near the ground and she rewarded him with a kiss to the cheek. His ears turned a brilliant shade of pink, and I nearly laughed at the sight.

"Why was Jessica standing on your shoulders?" I curiously asked Robbie and Euan, complete with impatient foot tapping.

"Modifying one of the exercises," Euan explained.

I turned to Potter and he slowly raised and lowered his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug.

"It shows creativity and a willingness to try new things."

"Hmmm…" I considered while making a few notes on my clipboard. An extra point for Potter's group. Except for the girl with the upturned nose considering that she hadn't participated at all.

"Oi, listen up!" I yelled to gain everyone's attention. Oh, the power. "Grab your brooms, it's time to do some flying."

It was not, however, the sort of flying exercise that everyone had been expecting. Instead of having them demonstrate their flying ability by flying laps around the pitch, the team and I had set up an obstacle course of sorts. The team hopefuls were required to dodge Bludgers, fly around several obstacles, and fly through a series of hoops.

Richard clipped the last hoop with the tail of his broom, but poor Euan Finnegan ran straight into the first hoop he was supposed to fly through and missed the last altogether. A fourth year nearly took a Bludger to the head, but Potter forced him to duck at the last moment.

For the next part of the tryouts, I separated the Chasers from the Keepers. There were eight Chasers and seven Keepers left. The Chasers were put in groups of three (with Bree making up the third in the last group) and told to pass the Quaffle amongst themselves for a while as the team members monitored their form.

A girl with strikingly blonde hair had a very strong arm and wasn't half bad when it came to accuracy. Jessica Walters was also doing well. Her aim needed some work, but that could be taught.

Lily Potter was the best. She'd clearly been practicing over the summer. She threw strongly with her shoulder and whole arm rather than her wrist or elbow like many of the others I was watching.

Next, those trying out for Chaser were given five opportunities to score against each person trying out for Keeper. I was chuffed to see that Richard blocked all but five of the shots made by the Chasers. Sidney Mason also did very well, blocking all but nine shots.

As firmly but nicely as I could, I told six of the Chaser hopefuls and five of the Keepers that they weren't what the team was looking for. Jessica Walters and Lily Potter were the remaining Chasers and Sidney Mason and Richard were the remaining Keepers.

"Well, it's hardly _fair_ is it?" the girl with the upturned nose grumbled loudly. "He's your brother, of course you're going to choose him. You probably practice together all of the time."

"Bollocks," Richard spoke up, surprising all of us on the pitch, I think, including himself. He was generally the quietest of the family, but when he chose to speak up, it was usually very intentional and to the point.

"_Sorry_?" the girl (looking at my clipboard I saw her name was Veronica Reid) snapped back.

"Eva's too principled for that. She wouldn't even let me practice with her the entire holiday just so we wouldn't be able to observe each other."

"Look at who's left. She's obviously just favoring people she likes."

"Shut up, Reid," Potter told her tersely. "Facts are that Richard is loads better than you are. He's an excellent flyer, a damn good Keeper, and he knows how to work well with others. You aren't any of those things. So shove off."

Oh, Merlin. That did not just happen.

Grabbing Potter by the arm in as tight as a hold as I could manage, I hissed, "I believe before tryouts, I told you to shut your face. _I will talk to you about this later_."

Releasing Potter and turning back to Veronica, I told her, "You saved the least amount of goals made by five of the seven Chasers. That's just not acceptable on this team, I'm sorry."

"Apparently what _is_ acceptable on this team is playing favorites."

Is this girl Lyra Rinaldi's secret twin sister that I've never heard of before? How hateful.

"I'm not playing favorites," I explained in what I hoped was a relatively patient voice. "I'm picking the best player for our team. Now if you don't mind, I have a tryout to finish."

After those eliminated had left the pitch (or stormed off in Veronica's case), we began the last phase of tryouts. We were going to simulate a match as closely as we could.

Each remaining Chaser and Keeper was given two attempts at playing with the rest of the team like a real member with the Beaters flying around, whacking a Bludger around.

Of course, Jessica and Lily couldn't be automatically perfect fits, but I was looking for the Chaser that had the most potential for blending and working well with me and Bree. Both girls were skilled players, but Lily possessed more natural instinct. With Richard and Sidney, I kept a tally of the number of goals saved as well as notes concerning their flying technique and instincts.

After we were finished, I said, "If you four would wait here, the rest of the team and I will discuss the final outcomes, and then I'll let you know who I've chosen."

The team and I retreated a ways away from Richard, Sidney, Jessica, and Lily and sat down in a circle in the grass.

"Here are the marks I've given all of the people who tried out," I laid my clipboard down in front of them on the ground.

"What the bleeding hell is _that_ mess?" Zara asked staring down at my final assessment.

Nico and Bree expressed similar sentiments.

"You've written it in code?" Bree asked quizzically.

"A code?" Nico asked with enthusiasm. "Did you make it up yourself? Is it like a spy code? Are you going to be an Auror?"

"Little Chap, you plank," Zara said thumping Nico upside the head. "Can you really imagine our Eva being anything but a Quidditch star? She's going to play for Puddlemere United, and she's going to marry a spectacularly fit Quidditch player, and maybe they'll have kids, and then between her and her brothers, there will be a Wood Quidditch dynasty at Puddlemere."

I colored at Zara's words, as complimentary to me though they were. Perhaps it was because of my father's influence, but I'd always been uncomfortable with the term "Quidditch star." I didn't want to be a star, I just wanted to play and do what I loved most in the world. Though I did quite like the part about marrying a spectacularly fit bloke.

"Each letter represents one of the activities we put them through, and the number is how well they did. See, whichever activity this was, Jessica Walters earned a 9.5. I reckon AB means endurance. That's what she was best at."

All heads whipped to Potter. I was pretty certain that my mouth was hanging open. Idiot though he might have been, Potter noticed things about Quidditch. I had known that before but…_wow_. He understood my code. Holy hippogriffs!

"Right?" he asked me, our eyes meeting.

"Yes," I replied faintly, my blue eyes not leaving his brown ones. "Exactly."

"Well, we should choose Richard and Lily," Zara offered her opinion. "They were the best all around, and I think they fit in well with the team."

"I liked Sidney better," Bree said picking at her nails. "I think he has potential."

"That's because you fancy him," Zara bluntly pointed out.

Bree's head whipped up so quickly I thought she might crack her neck. "_What_?"

Zara waved off Bree's indignation. "Oh, as if everyone didn't know already." Bree's face turned bright red.

"I didn't," Nico piped up, voicing what I had been thinking but hadn't intended to say.

"Back to Quidditch?" I suggested. "I want to hear what everyone thought."

"Richard and Lily," was Nico's input. "They were brill. And Lily's fit."

I wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of the glare that Potter was giving Nico, but Nico merely gave Potter a cheesy grin in return.

"You _stay away_ from my baby sister," Potter warned in a very low, slow voice.

"She's fourteen, not four!" Nico laughed. "She's only a year behind me."

That kid is playing with fire. He should get a clue and shut up while he still has his hands and eyes.

"Al and I will hex your face on backwards if you so much as look at our sister. We already have a bloke picked out for her and we don't need you mucking things up."

"Wait, wait, wait…" Zara held up a hand. "You're about to hex Nico for saying your sister is attractive and you're referring to her as your baby sister, but you're trying to set her up with someone? Isn't that a little hypocritical?"

"No," Potter insisted. "And it's not really setting her up. We think in the future when she's old enough to date –like in ten years - this bloke would be a good choice. He's not a creep like _some_ blokes about her age." This statement was accompanied with a deliberate glance in Nico's direction.

"Who is it?" Bree asked eagerly.

"Um, hello?" I cut in before this went any further. "_Quidditch_?"

"Richard and Lily," James said. "They each beat out their competition by a good margin, they worked well with the team. It's an easy call."

Holy hippogriffs, we could have had that figured out in much less time if people had been able to focus on the topic at hand.

"The team is in agreement," I said as we approached the four students anxiously awaiting our return. "Lily and Richard, welcome to Gryffindor team. Sidney and Jessica, you did well, and we would like you to be reserves for the team and I encourage you to try out next year."

Sidney and Jessica seemed disappointed, but at the same time, they had seemed to be expecting this outcome. The both agreed to serve as reserves for the team.

I internally breathed a sigh of relief. Tryouts were over, and everything had gone smoothly. Or relatively smoothly. I had found two excellent players to join the team, and that was all that mattered.

"Everyone be here for practice at 6:00am tomorrow morning. Now, go get something to eat. Potter, I need to talk to you," I added firmly.

Everyone one else exchanged a worried look, but did as I had instructed. Potter merely raised an eyebrow. Had he really thought I wasn't serious when I said I would talk to him later?

"Potter, when Veronica was mouthing off, I had everything under control," I told him once the others were outside the entrance doors. "I didn't need you stepping in and making me look as though I can't handle this job."

Potter folded his arms across his chest in a defensive stance. "She was being a cow, and I told her that she was a talentless cow. It's as simple as that. It had nothing to do with you."

"You were undermining my authority and acting as if you were the captain," I insisted, trying to exert my authority. Why couldn't he just let me do my job without sticking his nose in where it didn't belong?

"Get over yourself. Have you ever considered that not everything I do is to undermine you?" Potter said, brushing past me and striding towards the doors to the stadium.

"You're such a...a jerk faced prat!" I called after him. He didn't turn around or acknowledge my words.

I was about to put away the Quidditch equipment all by myself when Christine and Kieran showed up with a basket of food.

"We figured you hadn't had a chance to eat yet," Christine said, extending the basket to me. One glance inside had my stomach growling.

"Shepherd's Pie!" I moaned gratefully. "You're brilliant, really, the both of you."

With their help, all of the Quidditch balls and gear were put away in short order and the locker room was tidied. I locked my broom and spare workout clothing in my locker and wiped down the chalkboard.

We ate the food Christine and Kieran had brought sitting on top of some towels we had spread out on the locker room floor. Without something to sit on, I wouldn't have consumed food in there, but I supposed the towels made it all right. In addition to the Shepherd's Pie, they had brought peas and French beans, as well as a jug of cool water. We flicked more of the peas at each other than we ate, and we spent more time laughing than eating.

The three of us really needed to do this more often, even if Kieran wasn't technically supposed to be in here seeing as he's a Ravenclaw. But I know he's not one of the Ravenclaws that are out to get me, so it's all right with me, and I'm the captain.

As I lay in my four-poster bed that evening, the duvet wrapped snuggly around me, my thoughts inexplicably drifted back to tryouts and what I had overheard Potter say to his group.

"_Eva's the captain, and you either respect her and follow her instructions or forget about being picked." _

A wave of something that felt strangely like affection flooded over me as I remembered Potter's words and the way he had defended me to Veronica. I wasn't used to associating such a nice feeling with Potter (especially this term), so I squashed it down inside of me. It was simply too odd to contemplate.

Lily and Richard are on the team! Sorry if that was rather obvious, but it's been planned this way from the beginning. But also, I really think that considering the families they come from, they'd have an advantage when it came to skill and how long they'd played that would be difficult for other students to match. And of course, both characters have a role to play in the story!

**Thanks for reading! Reviews, thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism welcome! I reply to all signed reviews and I love answering questions/talking about my story!**

**Coming up next chapter: Eva has a run-in with Lyra, Sorcha goes off the deep end, and we meet Fred Weasley. **


	6. Sorcha Decides to Redecorate

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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**_Chapter Six: Sorcha Decides to Redecorate_**

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"Well, well, well."

Oh, no. Not her, not this early in the morning.

"I heard all about your silly little tryout," Lyra Rinaldi said as Christine and I ran into her and Scorpius Malfoy outside of the Great Hall on Monday morning. Scorpius was the Slytherin team Seeker and had stunningly blonde hair and intense grey eyes.

"The way I run my tryouts is no concern of yours," I replied evenly.

Okay, seriously. Who was going around telling the Slytherins about our tryouts? Probably Veronica, the stroppy cow.

"I think that as the Slytherin captain, the other team's tryouts _are_ my business. Wouldn't you agree, Scorpius?"

She turned to Scorpius, apparently seeking his approval. He merely shrugged, but that was all she seemed to require from him. Merlin, I hope he's not dating her. That would be one sorry relationship if he were.

"It doesn't matter how early you hold tryouts or how many ridiculous tactics you use at your tryouts," Lyra was saying as I contemplated whether or not she and Scorpius were dating. "Slytherin is just the better team."

"I think we'll let the first match decide that," Christine spoke up, giving Lyra a haughty glare. Christine didn't bring out the haughty glare very often, but when she did, it was effective.

"Exactly," I added. "So why don't you worry about your own team and let me worry about mine?"

Lyra ignored this and continued on. "I heard that you chose your brother and Lily Potter as your new players. I didn't think you were one to play favorites."

"I picked the all around best person to fill each position," I all but hissed. "The fact that Richard is my brother and Lily is Potter's sister didn't have anything to do with it. If there had been someone that was better than them, I would have picked that person, but they were the best."

"So defensive," Lyra practically giggled. Except it was more like a cackle. "You're great fun to talk to, Eva Wood. You let yourself be riled up and intimidated so easily, I hardly have to do a thing."

She made to walk away, but I boldly stepped forward with squared shoulders and suddenly Lyra didn't look so cocky any more. Beside her, Scorpius's facial expression was a combination of wary and hopeful. Maybe he was hoping I would punch her in the face. It _was_ a tempting thought.

"Let me be clear, Lyra," I told her in my most seriously, deathly calm voice. "You annoy the hell out of me, but you do _not_ intimidate me."

This time, I was the one to walk away from her. I could get used to the feeling of besting Lyra Rinaldi.

"That," Christine told me as we took our usual places near the far end of the Gryffindor table, "was brilliant."

"Thank you," I acknowledged with an incline of the head that made my brown hair fall into my face. I tucked it back behind my ears. "It felt brilliant."

"How did someone so spiteful become captain?" she asked, selecting two slices of toast and pulling the pot of jam over to her plate.

I filled my own plate with various fruits and some plain yogurt and tucked in. "She's a good Chaser," I explained, as much as it pained me to admit. "And you know how they are. The Slytherins do whatever is necessary to win. Intimidation has always been one of their main tactics and Lyra's particularly good at it. We never got on anyway, but now that I'm the Gryffindor captain and she's the Slytherin captain, well…you've seen. She's just…so stereotypically _Slytherin_! She's exactly what tends to give them a bad reputation."

Across the Great Hall, I saw Lyra Rinaldi sitting with Scorpius Malfoy. He was largely ignoring her and attempting to have a discussion with a boy with dark brown hair that desperately needed to be trimmed. Yikes, now I really hope they're not dating.

Christine shook her head. "I know Slytherins are resourceful and ambitious and that those aren't bad qualities in and of themselves, but sometimes they just take it too far. It's as if they don't realize there's a line that can be crossed. Mind you, some Gryffindors take this whole daring nerve and chivalry bit rather too far as well. So, maybe we're all just a bunch of nutters."

"Who's a bunch of nutters?" Roxanne asked as she slipped into the seat next to me.

"Slytherins," Christine and I answered at the same time. Clearly, we're awesome.

"Agreed," Roxanne said, then leaned towards me conspiratorially. "I heard that this fifth year named Veronica Reid is dating a Slytherin and that she's been spreading around all the information about tryouts because she was brassed off she didn't make the team."

Ha, I knew Veronica was behind this! Seriously, where was her Gryffindor pride?

I felt like throwing something at her, but there was nothing but food and the giant pumpkins the Care of Magical Creatures professor, Hagrid, had brought in for Halloween decorations. I wasn't willing to start a food fight and I couldn't move one of those pumpkins, so I was out of luck. Not that I would have actually thrown something at her. Probably.

"Oh," Roxanne said as she remembered something. "I wanted to warn you…um…Sorcha was doing some, er…redecorating when I left the dorm this morning. With Gemma's assistance. Actually, Gemma only volunteered to help because she set Sorcha's scarf on fire right after you left this morning."

"What, she's moving the furniture around?" Christine asked in a somewhat sarcastic manner. I think she's picked that up from me. She never used to be sarcastic at all.

I, however, knew exactly what Sorcha was up to. What does that say about me, exactly, that I am so in tune with the habits of my mental roommate whom I don't really like? I suppose she _is_ a rather predictable person, but still…it worries me.

"How bad is it?" I asked, dropping my face into my hands and rubbing my eyes wearily. What in the name of Merlin had happened over the summer holiday to intensify Sorcha's obsession with my dad?

"Hard to say. She's gone and taught herself how to do a picture reproduction charm, so who knows how many photographs she'll pin up."

"Picture reproduction charm?" Christine repeated, catching on. "Oh, good lord."

Roxanne nodded grimly. "I mean, yeah, Oliver Wood is a fit bloke – sorry - but…he's your dad. Sorry that I ever joined in on the whole gushing over your dad thing. It didn't occur to me when I was fifteen how creepy you might find that."

"If only Sorcha would come to the same realization," I sighed. I tried to fantasize what such a situation would be like, but somehow, I couldn't imagine my life without Sorcha's persistent professing of her attraction to my father. Ugh.

"When I left, there were four pictures up on the wall over her bed," Roxanne told me hesitantly. "I think she's skipping breakfast to work on her shrine."

Throwing myself out of the dormitory window just starts looking better and better all the time.

But as it turned out, Sorcha was not skipping breakfast. She rushed in all a flutter not five minutes later as we were discussing McGonagall's latest assignment.

"Has the post arrived?" she asked, breathlessly presumably from running all the way from Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall.

"Nope," Roxanne answered as she speared a waffle with her fork and transferred it to her plate.

"Oh good, I'm expecting something," Sorcha replied, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation. The soles of her shoes made a squeaky sound as she moved up and down.

"Sit down and eat something," Roxanne ordered her and Sorcha did as she was told.

"Sorcha," I asked, "_Why_ exactly are you creating a shrine to my dad?"

She laughed as though I had said something funny and brushed her black hair out of her face. "Oh, Eva, you know that my love for Oliver Wood knows no bounds."

Okay, this girl needs to be carted off St. Mungo's immediately. Can non-family members admit people as patients against their will?

Christine actually had the audacity to burst out laughing and for some reason, Sorcha joined in. It would seem that she didn't realize that she was being laughed at. This girl becomes more worrisome by the minute…

Everyone's laughter was cut short by the owl screech that signaled the arrival of the mail. Sorcha's Great Grey owl swooped in and settled next to her plate.

"Thank you, Oliver," she said as she stroked his feathers. She untied a large parcel from his leg, and he took off back to the owlry.

Yes, Sorcha's bird is named Oliver. She once told me that he was a birthday present and that he came with that name, but I have my severe doubts. I mean, seriously, what is the likelihood of her owl just happening to be named Oliver?

Also, on a totally unrelated subject, Great Grey's are a very strange looking bird. Strange bird for a strange girl, I guess.

Across the table, I saw Christine roll her eyes. "I'm going to go talk to Kieran," she announced. Escaping was what she was really doing. How unfair. "See you in Charms."

Tristan's owl, Gwenog (named for the former Harpies's player Gwenog Jones), dropped on to my shoulder unexpectedly making me drop a spoonful of fruit and yogurt onto my lap.

"Oh, whose owl is that?" Sorcha asked, reaching over the table to gently stroke Gwenog's head. Her parcel sat ignored on the table. For now.

"Tristan's. She was a birthday present this summer," I answered, distracted by my pressing need to clean off the front of my skirt. Taking out my wand, I vanished the blob of white and pink food. There, good as new.

In the mean time, Sorcha had adopted a thoughtful expression that somewhat frightened me. "If I remember rightly, Tristan doesn't look like your dad, does he?"

I froze. Was she really asking what I thought she was asking? "No, he looks more like our mum."

Thank goodness I didn't even have to lie. Tristan had dad's hair color, height and build, but in his facial features he more strongly resembled our mum. Richard and Gareth were the ones who looked like a younger version of dad with the exception that they had our mum's eyes.

"But your other brothers do, don't they?" she glanced down the table, stormy blue eyes searching out my younger brothers.

Oh, hell no.

"You did _not_ just ask that," Roxanne said in an appalled tone. She pushed her plate of unfinished food away from her in disgust.

"They're fifteen!" I cried loudly, earning curious glances from nearly half of the students in the Great Hall. Leaning across the table towards Sorcha and lowering my voice, I said, "Richard and Gareth are _fifteen_, and I will not have you_ stalking_ them or something!"

"I wasn't going to stalk them!" Sorcha protested (not very convincingly). "It's just more information about Oliver Wood, I swear!"

Yeah, and I was a diehard Slytherin. She probably wanted to know so that when they were out of Hogwarts, she could…I dunno…._seduce_ them or something. Oh, ick. I think I want my memory modified now that that idea has passed through it.

I mean, better my brothers than my father, but Sorcha was only interested in my brothers because of their resemblance to my father. How twisted was that?

"I honestly worry about you," I told Sorcha, who paid me absolutely no mind.

"It's here! It's here!" Sorcha cheered as she pulled two old Quidditch magazines from the parcel her owl had brought her. Pictures of my father when he was younger flashed at me from each magazine cover.

I grabbed the letter Gwenog had brought me, fed her some bacon off of Roxanne's abandoned plate, and grabbed my rucksack.

"I'm out of here," I mumbled, making my escape.

On my way out, I stopped to warn Richard and Gareth.

"Don't, under any circumstances, speak with Sorcha Patterson," I told them firmly. "If she approaches you at all, don't talk to her, don't eat anything she gives you, don't touch anything she might hand you. Just…stay far away."

Both boys were staring up at me as though I had gone completely round the bend. For once, their fears were completely unfounded.

"Did someone spike your orange juice?" Gareth asked slowly, holding back a laugh.

"I'm serious!" I insisted, motioning with my hands. "She's a lunatic. Most likely she's harmless. Probably. But just to be on the safe side, stay away from her."

"Is she the one who's obsessed with dad?" Richard asked, glancing down the table.

Sorcha was watching our exchange with unabashed interest. Oh. Sweet. Merlin.

"That's exactly her, so be wary. She asked about Tristan and then you two, so…yeah. Just be wary."

"Noted," Richard told me with a firm nod.

"I'll hit her with a Beater's bat if she gets too close," said Gareth with a laugh.

Arithmancy didn't start for another twenty minutes, so I decided to sit on the entrance hall steps and read my letter.

_Dear Eva,_

_Richard wrote to me and told me that he made the team, that's brilliant! He also mentioned that you never said anything to him before tryouts. I'm guessing you thought it would show favoritism? But honestly, anyone who's seen Richard play Keeper can't accuse you of favoritism._

_Things are fine here. As fine as they can be, that is. I feel like they're never going to let us do anything. It's repetitive practice after repetitive practice. I'm better than this, Eva, and you know it. Dad knows it too, which is the worst part. He's probably worried about showing favoritism since I'm his son, but I'm good and everyone knows it. He should give me some harder plays to do, or allow the reserves to practice with the main team once in a while. It would show some confidence in me. _

_Let me know how the Gryffindor team is doing when you get the chance. I know you're busy, but don't forget about me! I almost forgot to tell you, I've been out on a couple of dates with this really nice girl named Elena. She's great, I think you would like her. Maybe if we make it official, you'll get to meet her over the Christmas holiday._

_Tristan_

_P.S. Keep your elbows tucked in._

I sighed heavily. Didn't Tristan realize that most people never made it even as far as the reserves in Quidditch? Reserves meant he was very good and could someday play on a professional team. Almost everyone started as a reserve –Dad did and just look at how much success he had in his playing career!

"You know, they do allow you to sit in the Great Hall until classes begin."

I looked up to see Potter standing a little below me, his hands stuffed in his black trouser pockets. His Gryffindor tie was done up rather sloppily.

"If you must know, I'm out here because I was escaping from Sorcha."

He smirked annoyingly. "Is she in league with the Ravenclaws that are on to you?"

"Ha ha," I retorted dryly. "No, she is not in league with the Ravenclaw team. She is obsessed with my dad and is creating a shrine composed of pictures from his younger playing days in our dormitory."

Potter stared blankly at me. "You're doing all of my work for me. I won't have to work hard at all to prove that you're mental and deserve to be shipped off to St. Mungo's."

"I'm serious," I told him in earnest. "She was sent two old Quidditch magazines in the post this morning. Both of them feature my dad on the cover. Go in there and ask her if you don't believe me. She'll probably happily tell you all about it."

"Why don't you just tell her it's mental and creepy?" Potter asked, making a sour face. "That's what I did when one of the blokes in the dorm put up a poster of my mum from her Harpies days."

I am so glad that I'm not the only one with this problem. Granted, it's Potter that I'm having shared experiences with, but it's better than no one I suppose.

"Well," Potter amended, rubbing the back of his neck. "Actually, I hexed him and then ripped the poster off of the wall and tore it up into as many pieces as I could, but you get the idea."

"I've tried saying something to her, but she seems to think that I'll find her undying love for my dad flattering instead of what it is – _really_ weird. It would actually be kind of a laugh if it weren't my dad that she was obsessing over."

"Just hex her," was Potter's sage advice. "She'll figure it out."

"You underestimate her," I warned with a smile.

Just then, Potter's friends came out of the Great Hall and he offered me a quick, "See you around," before leaving me to join them.

Well, that had been a refreshingly normal conversation with Potter. Things between us had been very much like they had been the previous term before he had turned into such a sore loser over the issue of the captaincy.

It was almost time for class, so I ended up following a little ways behind them as I made my way to Arithmancy and as a result, I caught brief snippets of their conversation.

"…still… her?" Fred was saying to Potter. "C'mon …out there."

"Not… her."

"…know…existence, yeah?"

"No…" Christopher said. "She told..."

"…drop it." Potter said, his voice hard, yet defeated sounding.

"What's… Savitri?" Fred asked Christopher, who merely blushed and mumbled something I couldn't hear. A group of third years pushed in front of me as I rounded the corner and I fell far enough behind that I could no longer hear the boys' conversation.

But that was just as well; it's not as though I had been able to understand a word of that. And besides, I was starting to feel like a regular eavesdropper. It was really none of my business what those three boys were discussing.

There weren't many students still taking Arithmancy, so it was a small class of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Even more unfortunately, I didn't have any friends in this lesson so I sat by myself in the row in front of Potter, Fred, and Christopher.

"Oi, Eva," Christopher said, giving my chair a slight kick to gain my attention.

"What?" I answered, twisting around on my stool to look at the blonde haired boy.

"I meant to say something after last lesson – you don't have to sit by yourself. Come back here and sit with us."

"We don't bite," Fred assured me with a wide grin. "Usually."

The empty seat was next to Potter, but he wasn't looking at me. He was instead deeply concentrating on rummaging through his rucksack.

I paused a moment too long and Christopher said, "We're friends, right? It's no big deal."

"Yeah," I replied with a nod and small smile.

In truth, I had never exactly considered myself to be friends with the seventh year boys, but I wasn't on bad terms with Christopher or Fred. Just Potter. And it wasn't exactly_ bad_ terms, more like… touch and go terms.

With some trepidation, I gathered my belongings and moved around to occupy the empty seat next to Potter.

As I pulled my textbook from my rucksack, Potter gave a small grunt then said, "Ow, Fred, stop _elbowing me_."

"So sorry," Fred said, sounding rather nonchalant and not sorry at all.

"Hey, no injuring my Seeker," I pointed an accusing finger at Fred.

"_Your_ Seeker, huh?"

It was Potter's turn to elbow Fred.

"Now who's elbowing who?" Fred muttered, scooting his stool a few inches away from Potter as he rubbed at his left side. "You and your bloody sharp elbows."

"You two always were ridiculous when you were around each other," I smiled, thinking back to our younger years at Hogwarts.

"It's because Fred's a blighter and I have to keep him in check," Potter said with a small chuckle.

"It's because we're cousins," Fred explained solemnly. "If you were part of our family you would understand the madness. But who knows - maybe you'll end up being part of our family someday."

"Huh?" I said, thoroughly confused by this strange statement.

"What?" Fred replied innocently. "You could marry – "

"Al!" Potter supplied quickly.

"Or Hugo!" Christopher added, just as quickly.

"Or me!" Fred grinned cheekily at me.

Potter rolled his eyes but he was smiling slightly. Christopher looked as though he wanted to laugh but wasn't sure that he should.

"Or Louis," Fred blathered on, "But I'm not totally convinced that he doesn't play for the other team. Let's see… Teddy is engaged already. There's always James. You know, as a _very_ last resort."

The entrance of our professor saved me from having to give some sort semblance of a reply to Fred's ridiculous statements.

"Settle down, settle down," Professor Vector announced as she made her way to the front of the classroom. Professor Vector possessed that indefinable quality that made students be quiet and pay attention when she walked into a room. Kind of like Professor McGonagall.

After the lesson as we parted ways, Fred playfully nudged me with his shoulder. "Just think about it. Look at all of the Potter and Weasley men you have to choose from." He winked outrageously at me, making me laugh.

That entire conversation had been very unexpected, but it had been a refreshing change from sitting by myself. Potter hadn't said much at all to me, let alone been snarky. Sometimes I did not understand that boy.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading for all of the fantastic reviews! <strong>

It will be a little longer between his update and the next because I need to finish up my grad school applications, but I hope you all enjoyed this quick update for Christmas! Is Sorcha crazy or what? Did you like Fred? And a normal conversation between James and Eva!

**Next chapter:** More Jonathan, more James, and the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin – what do you think will happen?


	7. Crazy Obsessed with Quidditch

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_Chapter Seven: Absolutely Crazy Obsessed with Quidditch_

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As I had predicted, Lily and Richard were fitting in well with the rest of the team. It probably didn't hurt that everyone already knew them because they were related to Potter and me, but they were blending in well on an athletic basis as well. Lily was quickly adapting to the way Bree and I played together, and in turn Bree and I were learning Lily's flying and throwing style and habits.

A month and a half into term and things were looking good for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Except for the odd subversive comment by Potter, I thought we were truly acting like a team.

I shivered as I made my way down to the pitch. Last year, Sean had had team practices in the afternoon, but I had decided to hold practice in the early morning. It might have been cold and early, but it was less likely that people would come to watch us practice. People like those sneaky Ravenclaws.

As had become usual, Potter was already at the pitch before me. I had considered making an effort to wake earlier and beat him to practice, but I reckoned that he would only start waking up earlier than me, and that we'd end up in some ridiculous situation in which we were arriving at the pitch five hours early.

So, in the interest of avoiding a battle of "who can make it to the pitch the earliest" I had decided to let him arrive the earliest every practice. Who cared if he felt he was somehow superior for it? I was able to sleep an extra twenty minutes.

This morning, Potter was sporting a blazing orange Chudley Canons sweatshirt that stood out like a neon sign on the slightly foggy pitch.

"I never took you for a Canons fan," I said as I approached. He was stretching, so I joined him considering I was going to make everyone run laps.

Potter looked up at me from the ground where he was sitting stretching out his hamstrings.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he shrugged, but then said, "It was a gift from my Uncle Ron. He's a big fan and he thinks the rest of the family should be too, so he gives us Chudley gear every now and then for Christmas and birthdays."

"So which team do you follow then?" I asked as it occurred to me that I had no idea which team Potter supported even though I had spent the last four years of my life on the same Quidditch team as him. I bent forward and touched my toes.

"I'm partial to the Harpies because Mum played for them," he answered, now stretching the other leg.

"Really?" I was taken aback. I suppose it made sense because of his mum, but it was still a surprising choice. Most blokes our age didn't freely admit to being Harpies followers. I supposed that I had seen him wear Harpies shirts before, but I just thought he had them because of his mum, not because they were his favorite.

"Yeah, why not?" he answered easily, standing up and stretching out the backs of his arms. Potter had rather nicely defined arms. Not that I was looking or anything. I just happened to notice.

"They're a good team," Potter continued honestly. "And they have a history of spectacular matches. You never watch a Harpies match and walk away thinking that they didn't give it their all or that it wasn't a fantastic match."

I could get behind that logic. Potter understood that the game was more than winning, it was how you played because you loved it.

"Not to mention they're a bunch of incredibly fit and generally beautiful witches," Potter continued with a smirk. "What's not to like?"

I rolled my eyes at him and laughed.

"No need to ask which team you follow," he grinned, gesturing to my jacket with Puddlemere's crossed golden bulrushes embroidered on the chest.

"I suspect that I would be _disowned _if I didn't support Puddlemere United," I admitted with a laugh. "But I do like the history, what with them being the oldest team in the League. They're a consistently solid team, and they have dedicated players."

As we discussed Quidditch teams and stretched, it occurred to me that I was having an extremely civil conversation with James Potter. How odd.

"Puddlemere's two European Cups are impressive, but Dad would like to see them higher in the rankings this year," I said.

"I thought that Puddlemere had won the European Cup three times?" Potter asked as he stood up and worked on a knee strengthening exercise.

"It's two," I corrected him, reaching my own arms over my head to stretch my triceps. I felt my shirt ride up a bit and the chilly air touched the sliver of stomach that had been exposed. Holy Hippogrifs, that was cold.

"I thought...um, it was three," he insisted in a slightly distracted manner, his eyes not meeting mine.

"Potter, my dad coaches the team – I think I would know!"

Well, so much for a conversation without an argument.

"Yeah, your dad is the coach, not you," he pointed out. "_You're_ not the expert."

"I know more about Puddlmere than you do!"

"The Canons?" Zara said incredulously as she and Bree walked up to us, effectively ending our argument. "Merlin, Potter, I thought you had better sense than to follow a team who's motto is, 'Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best.'"

"I'd rather back the Canons than be a Stinger," he countered with a sardonic smile.

I had to agree with that statement. We were very anti-Wasps in our household. My dad had a particular dislike of them for some reason. Something to do with one of their former Beaters.

"Good thing I know you're a Harpies fan and not a real Canons fan," Zara rolled her eyes. "At least the Harpies actually know how to _fly_."

"That's harsh," Nico intoned as he joined us. "I happen to love the Canons."

"That's because you have no taste, Little Chap," Zara informed him while Bree yawned.

Nico narrowed his eyes and I swear he practically quivered. "No, it's because they're underdogs. I can relate. No one expects me to be any good at Quidditch because of my slender build and my height."

"Or lack of," Potter said with a slight cough. Nico purposefully ignored him.

"Do you think that the Canons will ever win the League Cup again?" Bree asked, skepticism lacing her high voice.

"All true fans believe they will. Their time will come…in the future," was Nico's response. Wow, he sounded rather as though he was channeling Professor Trelawney for a moment there. I almost asked if he liked Divination, but then thought better of it.

Last to join us were Richard and Lily. I checked my watch; they were still five minutes early, so I couldn't reprimand them.

"Good morning everyone," I greeted my team. "Those of you who haven't stretched out, I highly suggest it because we're starting with laps."

After ten laps around the pitch, everyone was assigned a particular play or tactic to work on. Richard was to work on his kick saves, Potter was instructed to perfect his Wronski Feint, and Zara and Nico were to practice hitting the Bludgers more accurately between themselves.

Meanwhile, Bree, Lily and I worked on learning the Hawkshead Attacking Formation. We had the basic moves down, but it wasn't second nature to us yet and the play still looked extremely rough. However, I felt that given more time and practice, the three of us would be able to master the formation and use it effectively.

Our first match of the year against Slytherin was rapidly approaching. We only had two weeks before the big match. The match against Slytherin was often one of the biggest matches of the year because of the intense rivalry between the two houses.

We had beaten Slytherin in the first match last year, but had ultimately lost the cup to them at the end of the term. Still, the Slytherins (and in particular Lyra Rinaldi) would be out to avenge their loss last year, and we needed to be prepared.

The Slytherin team had acquired four new players, so that was a bit of a worry. I wasn't sure how the new players would affect their team's dynamic, especially considering that two of the positions that had been filled were for Chasers. Also new were the Seeker and one of the Beaters.

Hufflepuff hadn't had any spots to fill on their team, so there wasn't much worry about how they would play when we met them. I still had my notes from last year about the Hufflepuff team. Their Keeper always flew slightly to the left, and that knowledge was advantageous to our Chasers.

Ravenclaw had gotten a new Beater and a new Seeker this year. The Seeker had been a reserve last term, so I had a few notes on her flying ability and tendencies. I would have to take some more notes when Hufflepuff played Ravenclaw.

"Hey, Wood!" Potter called, as I deftly caught a pass thrown by Lily. "Keep your elbows tucked in!"

Twisting on my broom, I saw Potter hovering near the goalposts and talking with Richard. That traitor! Selling out my old weakness and pet peeve to Potter, and for what?

"Richard Daniel Wood, I will never forgive you for this," I yelled at him.

Richard and Potter just laughed.

Gits.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"What happened to the side of your face?" Jonathan asked as we worked on extracting some pods from a plant whose name I had already forgotten ten minutes into the Herbology lesson.

Herbology was really not my thing, but I'd rather be here than say, in Divination. But really, who had decided that the world needed fanged geraniums and plants that shot darts with filled with venom? What kind of idiotic idea was _that_?

I brought my hand up to the side of my face and winced slightly. "Quidditch pass gone awry. Nico distracted me, Bree didn't notice that I wasn't watching, and I got pegged in the head."

"It looks like it hurts," he said, moving his hand slightly, as if he was going to reach up and touch the bruise on the side of my head, but then he seemed to think better of it.

I shrugged. Actually, it didn't hurt unless I pressed on it. It wasn't even a remotely serious injury.

"I've had much worse. I've broken….well, let's just say I've broken a few bones."

Jonathan shuddered as he snipped off a pod from the plant in front of him and deposited it in our collecting tin. "I reckon I have a low pain threshold. The thought of injuries makes me feel a bit peaky."

"You get used to it," I replied, glancing into the tin. Jonathan had collected way more than me so far. "I've played with dislocated fingers."

"You're mad," was his response. "But I like you."

Oh. Well, that's nice, I suppose. New friends are always good. Inter-house unity and all.

"You're all right yourself," I replied.

After Herbology, I dropped by the owlry to send off a letter to Tristan and a letter to my parents telling them about how the Gryffindor team was progressing.

Tristan had sent me another letter lamenting his lack of activity and playing time as a reserve for Puddlemere. I loved my brother dearly, but even I had to admit that he could be an arrogant sod.

I don't know what he expected Dad to do, but Dad couldn't very well sack his current, perfectly ace Keeper. Tristan would just have to wait, like most everyone who goes into Quidditch does. I was getting a bit weary of telling him that.

Dad had sent me a long, extremely in depth letter detailing how he had run Gryffindor team practices back during his time as captain. Mum had added a postscript that said she hadn't been able to dissuade Dad from sending the letter, but who was she trying to kid? She had enclosed a newspaper clipping of an article _Quidditch Weekly_ had run a few years back about the most effective habits of successful captains.

My family was absolutely crazy obsessed with Quidditch. I loved the game, I loved them, and I wouldn't trade either for anything.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

The day of the Slytherin match dawned sunny, but cool. Seeing as I was the first one up, I removed the silencing charm from Sorcha. I went about getting ready for the day in a sort of fog.

All I could think about was the pending match, everything else was relegated to secondary (or third or fourth) importance in my mind. My thoughts were so entirely focused on Quidditch that I nearly used Sorcha's shampoo (hers is in a bright pink bottle – what made me think it was mine?) in the shower and almost walked into the closed door to the loo on my way out.

Somehow I made it down to the Great Hall without running into a suit of armor or falling down a flight of stairs. I credit this to Christine, who practically steered me the entire way.

On match days, the Gryffindor team all ate breakfast together. It was a tradition I liked, but today I wanted Christine next to me for moral support.

Nico was happily munching away at a traditional full English breakfast, no trace of nerves or worry at all. Zara and Bree were eating some fruit, looking solemn and determined. Lily and Richard were forcing themselves to eat a little something, and they both looked a tad peaky, but that was normal considering it was their first match.

"Everyone eat up," I told the team. "We'll need our strength on the pitch today."

Potter was sitting next to me on my right, his plate containing an untouched assortment of breakfast foods.

He leaned towards me a bit and motioned to my empty plate. "You need to eat something, Wood."

I shook my head and wrapped my arms around my middle.

"Nervous?" Potter asked, eyebrows raised in a slightly challenging manner.

I nodded again, eyes fixed on my plate. What was wrong with me? Like most Quidditch players, I was typically a bit nervous before matches, but the pressure of being the captain was affecting me more than I had anticipated. I had never been so anxious about a match before in my life.

"I hate it. It's so unlike me!" I admitted, blurting the words out.

Hold on – why was I admitting my weaknesses to Potter? Ugh.

"It's your first match as captain. It's normal to be nervous," he assured me, spooning some mixed fruit and yogurt on to my plate. "Eat this. You'll feel better."

I warily eyed the plate and then him. "Exactly how do you know what I like to eat for breakfast?"

His reply was, "If you eat some of that, I'll eat something too."

Well, now I had no choice and he knew it. I had to set a good example as captain. We each ate just enough to satisfy the other. Potter was right, I did feel a bit better with something in my stomach. For the moment anyway.

"Just don't go sicking up all over the pitch later," Potter told me with a grin.

"I believe the last person to vomit on the pitch was you," I reminded him. The memory of that particular incident wiped the grin off of his face and he scowled moodily.

Checking my watch, I saw that it was time to make our way down to the pitch.

"It's time," I said stoically and the team stood up to file out of the Great Hall. The students sitting at the Gryffindor table cheered and yelled encouragements.

Once everyone had changed into their Gryffindor robes, we gathered in the common area of the locker room. I stood before my team, looking back at them watching me intently. Everyone except for Nico was looking nervous, but all of them were wearing determined expressions that heartened me.

"Okay, team, this is it," I began. Everything I had planned to say was floating around in my brain, but unfortunately, none of it was in any sort of coherent order.

Potter cocked his head and raised an eyebrow as if to challenge my words. Strangely, his actions motivated me to continue, the words now coming to me with confidence.

"Oh, stuff it, Potter. Like you could do any better," I told him, leading everyone else to fix him with an annoyed look that he passed off with a grin.

"All of you have been doing great at practices. We're thinking and working like a team, and I want to thank everyone for their hard work and dedication. Now, Nico and Zara, remember Lyra has gone for size with the Slytherin Beaters. Be careful, and fly smart. Don't take any unnecessary risks. Potter, no cobbing fouls against their Seeker this time, please. It's sunny out today, so everyone be extra careful of the glare in your eyes."

I could hear the Slytherin team being announced. "Captained by Lyra Rinaldi, here is SLYTHERIN! Rinaldi, Alliman, Snavely, Murray, Howard, Banks, and Malfoy! New this year on the Slytherin team are Scorpius Malfoy as Seeker and Robert Howard as Beater!"

"Now for GRYFFINDOR!" yelled the student announcer as we mounted our brooms and flew onto the pitch to the cheering of the crowd. "Wood, Potter, Martin, Thomas, Phelps, Wood, and Potter! Captain Eva Wood has put together a strong side this year, with the addition of Richard Wood as Keeper, and Lily Potter as the third Chaser. We're in for a great match today!"

The sunlight was bright, but I noted that the breeze was minimal, which would be advantageous for play with the Quaffle. All around us, the stands were filled with cheering students, a constant loud hum of noise. The sound of it was exhilarating and I felt my nerves begin to fade away now that I was on the pitch where I belonged.

Madame Hooch eyed every member of both teams sternly before saying, "I want a clean match from you lot, now."

She threw the Quaffle up in the air, and, as if in slow motion, I watched it rise and then begin to drop. Instinct took over, and I leaned forward on my broom and angled a bit downwards. I snatched the red Quaffle out of the air and tucking it safely under my left arm (elbows in, thank you very much), I continued my downward drop to avoid colliding with Michael Snavely, one of the Slytherin Chasers.

"And Gryffindor takes possession, Wood carrying the Quaffle."

Pulling up, I turned in the direction of the Slytherin goal posts. Behind me, Lyra and Auna Alliman were closing in on either side. But then, just like we'd practiced, Bree and Lily were flying one below me, one above me. I feinted as if I was going to drop the Quaffle below to Bree in a classic Quidditch move, but instead I tossed it upwards to Lily, who sped off towards the Slytherin goals.

"And Lily Potter scores for Gryffindor!" the announcer cheered. "Gryffindor is leading by ten."

Ten minutes later, Gryffindor was ahead by thirty points, but it wasn't enough to ensure a victory if Malfoy caught the snitch before Potter.

Potter had been fouled for cobbing even though I warned him about elbowing the other Seeker. The boy needed to learn to listen. However, Slytherin had been fouled for more than one Chaser entering the scoring area as well as cobbing. The cobbing had been Lyra, surprise, surprise.

Bree tossed me the Quaffle - her aim was slightly off but I managed to catch the ball before swiftly ducking to avoid being taken out by a Bludger hit towards me by one of the two hulking Slytherin Beaters. The breeze caused by the Bludger ruffled my hair - that was insanely close.

Lyra made a jab at the Quaffle, attempting to knock it loose, but I held it firmly, refusing to let her take it from me. Nico hit a well-aimed Bludger at her, forcing her to veer sharply away from me, and giving me time to speed off down the pitch.

Approaching the Slytherin goalpost I flew straight at Banks. He wore an expression of trepidation, but I pulled up sharply before the goal line, feinted to the right, and the Quaffle sailed easily threw the left hoop.

"Wood scores! Gryffindor leading one hundred to sixty."

One of the Slytherin Beaters flew purposefully into Zara and almost knocked her off her broom, but the incident went unnoticed because Madam Hooch was busy calling a foul on the Slytherin Keeper for putting his hand through one of the hoops as he tried to catch the Quaffle.

Snavely took possession of the Quaffle and eventually scored, rapidly followed by a goal made by Lyra. Now we were only ahead by twenty.

Tugging the Quaffle from Alliman's loose hold, I tucked my elbows in and swerved around players and Bludgers alike before I pulled my arm back to score ten more points for Gryffindor. Bree scored twice more and Lily scored once more, but Alliman also scored on Richard once.

A gasp and sudden silence from the crowd meant only one thing: the Snitch had been spotted. It was always tempting to stop and watch the race for the Snitch, but I couldn't allow myself to lose time that could be valuable to gaining more points for Gryffindor.

Daring a quick glance, I saw that Potter and Malfoy were neck and neck, racing across the pitch at an upward angle. Even from this distance and from just a glance, I could tell that Potter's jaw was clenched tightly as he concentrated.

I scored once more, the Quaffle barely making it past Banks's outstretched hands. In my haste, I hadn't done a good job of feinting properly and he had been able to tell which hoop I would aim for. I would have to work on that at our next practice.

Lily was now in possession of the Quaffle and was fending off a double team attack by Snavely and Rinaldi. Suddenly, the crowd broke into loud, wild cheers. I didn't have to look at the stands to see which section was cheering because the maliciously triumphant look on Lyra Rinaldi's face said it all.

"Malfoy has caught the Snitch! Slytherin wins, 240 to 150!"

My stomach plummeted so fast that it felt as though I was free falling from my broom. I had had that experience before, but this felt different. There was no adrenaline rush, just the feeling that my stomach was no longer in my body but that at the same time I was going to be sick.

"I guess you weren't captain material after all," Lyra Rinaldi yelled to me with a twisted smirk as she flew off to join the Slytherins congregating to celebrate in the center of the pitch.

The students in the Gryffindor stands looked shocked. Their pennants and signs were drooped sadly in defeat, and slowly the students began to shuffle out of the stands.

Gryffindor had lost.

I had lost.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thanks so much for reading for all of the fantastic reviews! Reviews, thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism welcome! I reply to all signed reviews and I love answering questions/talking about my story!**

So what do you think will happen now that Gryffindor has lost to Slytherin? Poor Gryffindor – but it had to be that way for plot purposes!

**Next chapter:** LOTS of James, the aftermath from the match, and Eva hears some very shocking news.


	8. Match Aftermath and a Bad Surprise

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_Chapter Eight: Match Aftermath and a (Bad) Surprise_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I stood under the spray of the showerhead letting the hot water pour down on me. I was still wearing my Quidditch robes, but I didn't care.

Maybe if I stood here long enough, the water would rinse away these feelings of inadequacy that were raging within me. Maybe I could just drown in here and save myself the embarrassment of having to face my fellow Gryffindors who had been counting on me to defeat Slytherin and win the match.

I could hear the sounds of Bree, Zara, and Lily finishing up their showers and dressing.

"It'll be all right, love," Zara called, tapping softly on my door as she passed.

"It's just one match," Lily said firmly. "It's not the entire season."

"We'll win the next one," Bree agreed.

I could hear them murmuring among themselves before they all left, leaving me in the showers alone with my thoughts.

Had I been too confident in my team? Too confident in myself? Had I become arrogant? Was that why we had lost? Had we not trained hard enough? Was there a specific play, specific moment that had cost us the match?

In my head, I played the game over and over, desperately searching for where I had gone wrong. At some point, I ended up sitting in the middle of the floor directly under the spray. It was kind of like sitting outside in the rain, and I found it somewhat soothing.

The door to the girls' showers opened with its customary rusty squeak, and the sound of footsteps moved towards my door. I wondered which of the girls had come back for me. Probably Zara. She was a good mate like that.

"Eva, you can't drown yourself in there. Come out."

"Potter!" I screeched, thoroughly surprised to hear his voice. "Holy hippogriffs! This is the girls' showers, _get out_!"

Opening my mouth to yell at Potter had allowed a fair bit of the water running down my face to get into my mouth and I spit it out. Ugh, the taste of hot shower water.

"Eva, come out," he said again, his voice firm.

"_No_!"

If there was one person I didn't want to see right now, it was James Potter. He was probably here to gloat about my poor captaining skills.

"Then I'm coming in there," he threatened with a menacing pound on the door.

I didn't answer, merely buried my head in my arms that were resting on top of my knees and drew my knees in even closer to my body. There was an uncomfortable pricking at the corners of my eyes and I screwed my eyes closed even tighter.

_Don't cry, don't cry_, I harshly scolded myself. I hated crying, absolutely loathed it. I may need one of my dad's spectacular hugs sometimes, but I do not cry. To cry was to be weak and vulnerable and I am neither of those things. I'm a proper Gryffindor!

The door to the shower slowly inched open as Potter proved just how serious he had been about coming in. What did he think he was doing? I could have been bleeding starkers for all he knew!

As it was, I probably looked utterly pathetic, sitting all scrunched up on the floor of the shower, completely soaked and allowing the water to pour over me unceasingly. I didn't look up and instead silently begged him to go away. Why would he think that I would want to see him?

His trainers made a squeaking sound on the wet floor as he moved towards me and turned the water spigot off. I felt him drop down beside me and hesitantly put one of his arms around my shoulders.

I felt my body stiffen at the contact. What was _happening_? Did I just enter a parallel universe?

"It'll be okay," Potter told me softly. His arm that was resting on my shoulders was warm and heavy, though not in an unpleasant sort of way.

Although I hated to admit it, it felt nice to be comforted. It was a good feeling, the knowledge that someone cared enough to ignore my requests to be alone when deep, deep down I really didn't want to be alone at all.

It wasn't that the others on the team weren't upset by the loss. Everyone was upset that our hard work hadn't paid off. I had seen tears glistening in Lily's eyes and Bree hadn't been able to stop sniffling. Zara had slammed her locker door shut and Nico hadn't said a word, a certain sign that he was distressed.

But Potter and I…we were both seventh years and had been on the team since third year. We were invested in our team in a way that the others just couldn't be yet. We were also the ones who loved Quidditch the most, and as a result felt the loss more keenly.

"No, it _won't_," I replied, my voice cracking, much to my deep chagrin.

And in what I could only describe as a moment of supreme weakness, I threw my arms around Potter's neck and sobbed into his shoulder. In response, he merely wrapped his other arm around me as well and allowed me to weep buckets all over his formerly dry shirt.

Some people might say that I was being silly, sobbing over a lost Quidditch match. But people like that didn't understand how much Quidditch meant to me. They didn't understand that I had just failed my first test as captain.

"I-I'm s-sorry that I'm… s-such a f-failure of a-a-a…cap-tain," I admitted through my sobbing.

"You're not a failure, Eva," Potter told me, his mouth very close to my ear, his breath warm on my skin. "You were brilliant today, and no one who saw the match can say any differently. The match wasn't just yours to lose. We lost the match as a team."

"But – " I tried to protest, but Potter cut me off.

"Stop it. _We lost that match as a team_. Slytherin out-played us fair and square – but don't tell anyone I said that. So, you know what? We keep training and we work harder and we meet the next match when it comes. That's all we can do. Understand?"

I nodded against his chest, which was warm and firm in a slightly muscular sort of way. I hated it when Potter was correct, especially about Quidditch related things.

"Everyone will think – " I began, but once again, Potter refused to let me finish. What an annoying habit of his.

"No one will think that you're a failure just because we didn't win the first match. Especially not your family and friends. They all think you're bleeding perfect."

Ah, I knew that the normal James Potter was lurking behind this absurdly rational and calm version of Potter.

"You did as much as any captain could have done." He paused, then said slowly, as if it cost him physical effort, "We could have lost even if I had been captain. I was the one who didn't catch the Snitch."

Well, that was true. We were going to discuss what happened with that at a later time.

"How did you know I was still in here?" I asked once I was finally able to stop crying. I slowly pulled away from Potter's embrace. Embarrassed, I refused to meet his eyes.

"Lily came and found me and told me to get in here. She reckoned that you might not want to be alone and that I was the only other person who would understand how you felt."

He paused for a moment, then continued in a low voice. "When I didn't get captain, I was absolutely _crushed_. I'd worked so hard to live up to what my parents, my aunts and uncles, and my cousins have all done before and…Ever since I was in first year, all I ever wanted was to be the Quidditch captain. When you got it…I was angry and bitter - still am a bit, truthfully. Angry with myself, with you, with McGonagall, with O'Mara…Mostly with myself. If I had just done one thing different or worked harder…"

I knew exactly what he meant. It wasn't hard to put myself in Potter's shoes. I could easily imagine the scenario if I hadn't been named captain. What Potter was describing, that was exactly how I would have felt if I hadn't been named captain. It was how I felt now about the lost match.

"I took my anger out on you. I shouldn't have," he said in that same low, forceful voice.

Not for the first time, Potter's words towards Veronica came floating back into my mind. _"Eva's the captain, and you either respect her and follow her instructions or forget about being picked."_

Holy Hippogriffs –had he taken his own words to heart? Was Potter apologizing to me? Merlin, I didn't think that James Potter would be apologizing to me any time in the foreseeable future. Especially not about something related to Quidditch.

"Do you feel any better?" he ventured cautiously, warm brown eyes searching my face.

"Not really," I replied honestly. "I thought that crying was supposed to make you feel better. I feel terrible that we lost and now I feel embarrassed and stupid for crying all over you. I barely ever cry."

Ugh, someone needs to shut me up because I am clearly not in my right state of mind and am babbling all kinds of things to Potter. I will probably regret this very much in a day or two, but it's rather difficult to care at this precise moment.

"I like that about you. That you're not weepy."

I regarded Potter with a look of confusion, but I couldn't decipher the intense and somewhat conflicted expression on his face.

"C'mon," he said suddenly, standing up and offering me his hand. "Get changed and I'll walk you back to the common room."

"Are you sure you're not going to stuff me in a broom closet and take over as captain?" I asked (somewhat) jokingly, wiping at my eyes with the sleeve of my Quidditch robes, only it didn't do any good considering my robes were still sopping wet.

"You know I'm not," was his reply.

I supposed that I did know it. Now.

Once I had changed into a pair of jeans and a comfortable shirt, I joined Potter in the common area of the locker rooms where only a couple of hours ago our team had sat in anxious anticipation of the match.

"Let's go," Potter took my hand and pulled me from the locker rooms. His hand was large and a bit calloused from Quidditch, but it was also pleasantly warm.

We walked in an usually (for us) comfortable silence, and it wasn't until we arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady that I realized that we had held hands the entire walk up to the Common Room.

Quidditch match lost, failure as captain, weeping on Potter's shoulder, holding hands with Potter. Could this day become any worse?

And yet…Potter had been so _nice_. Genuinely nice. I mean, as far as I can tell, he's perfectly nice to his family and friends - just not usually to me.

"Higgledy-piggledy," Potter told the portrait, which swung open. He released my hand and gave me a gentle push towards the common room. "I'm going to go fly for a bit. It usually helps me feel better after a loss. Sleep well, Eva."

I watched him walk away, back down the corridor the way we had just come. If he had wanted to go for a fly to relieve tension and vent his frustrations, he could have just stayed down there. He didn't have to walk me up to Gryffindor Tower. What a strange bloke.

"Are you planning on entering?" The Fat Lady asked me, her voice laced with thinly veiled annoyance.

"Yes," I said, and climbed in through the portrait hole.

The common room was full of students sitting around discussing the match. My fellow Gryffindors were obviously disappointed that we had lost, but they weren't terribly downtrodden by the fact. Gryffindors were a hard lot to suppress. Al Potter was sitting with Richard, Gareth, and some other Gryffindor boys exclaiming over some of the highlights of the match. Hearing that people were still proud of our team gave me heart.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

The next morning I woke up with puffy, red eyes. Looking in the mirror was a bit of a scary sight, so I splashed my face with cool water and used some potion out of a skin care vial of Christine's that was supposed to reduce puffiness. With some mascara and lip gloss, I looked much better and a lot less like I had cried into my pillow once everyone else had gone to sleep.

"No one's going to be staring at you," Christine assured me. "Just go down there and eat breakfast as you normally would."

I couldn't remember the last time I was this emotional and I felt more than a little pathetic about the whole crying on Potter's shoulder. Merlin, when did I become so bleeding emotional?

With the flick of her wand, Christine closed Sorcha's bed hangings, effectively hiding the Oliver Wood shrine I had yet to lay eyes on. I had been vigilant about not looking at her area of the dormitory.

"You don't want to see that until you're in a better mood," Christine promised. I believed her.

When I entered the common room, I saw that Richard and Gareth were sitting on the sofa by the fireplace watching the girls' staircase with obvious anticipation and worry.

The moment they saw me, they both jumped up and rushed over to me. Then they enveloped me in a hug that felt more like an ambush/rugby tackle. But I still appreciated the gesture.

"It'll be okay!"

"Are you okay?"

"Malfoy's a tosser."

"Rinaldi's a tosser. And a cow."

"A stroppy cow."

"Your flying was ace. You kept your elbows tucked in!"

"It wasn't that bad of a loss. Our Chasers and Keeper were loads better than Slytherin's."

"Cheers. Merlin, that hulk Banks could barely catch the Quaffle if his life depended on it."

"Yes, yes. You were brilliant," I wheezed from my place sandwiched between my burly younger brothers.

My wheezing clued them in to the fact that I was having trouble breathing, and they finally let me go. Off to the side, Christine stood watching with an amused expression.

"So, you're okay?" Gareth asked, looking down at me, concern crossing his face.

"Much better now that I can breathe again, thank you," I replied with a pointed look.

"About the match," Richard asked bluntly. "Not going to jump off the roof?"

I gave him an appraising stare. "Who told you about that?"

"Christine."

Should have guessed that. I glanced over at my best mate, but she was assiduously studying the bricks of the fireplace.

"No, throwing myself off the roof is reserved for incidents related to Sorcha."

"We just didn't want you to think you were a failure," Richard explained. "Because you're not. We're a team. It's too bad that we didn't win, but it's not the end of the world."

"Right," Gareth nodded. "You lot did everything you could. It was a brilliant match, everyone is saying so."

"Thanks, guys," I told them sincerely. "You're the best."

I still felt like crap about the lost match, but there was nothing I could do about it. The first match was over, and I needed to be concentrating on the next match against Hufflepuff.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"So…" Roxanne said as we sat the Gryffindor table. "I heard that Flitwick is going to assign us an essay today."

The other girls hurriedly chimed in with exclamations of surprise and protest. I knew they were trying to keep my mind off of yesterday's match, and while it was a nice gesture and all, discussing Charms essays wasn't going to do the trick.

I wasn't going to be forgetting how rotten I felt any time soon, especially not with the Slytherins sitting over at their table cheering and carrying on about their victory. Students were congratulating Lyra and the other members of the Slytherin team, slapping them on the back and stopping to say how brilliantly they had played.

The Slytherin team, brilliant? Ugh, anyone with eyes should know better.

For an instant, my eyes locked Lyra's. She mouthed the word "loser" before smirking cruelly and turning away to bat her eyelashes in Malfoy's direction.

At the other end of the Gryffindor table, James was sitting with his mates. They were talking among themselves, but he was staring at one spot in the center of the table, his eyes hard, his jaw tense. The Slytherins were bothering him just as much as they were bothering me.

My stomach sank to my toes as I saw Waffle swoop in with the other owls as the post arrived. I glanced down the table and saw Richard and Garth watching me. When they saw I was looking at them, they quickly looked away and became very absorbed in the platter of sausages in front of them. Oh, the subtly. So, they had written mum and dad.

Waffle landed on my shoulder and gave my ear an affectionate nip and I untied the letter from his leg.

"Is it from your dad?" Sorcha asked in hope, eyes alight.

"Mum," I lied, even though my name on the outside of the envelope was written in dad's chicken scratch handwriting.

I stared at the envelope in my hands. Maybe if I stared at it long enough it would simply go away. I had been wishing for a lot of impossible things in the last twelve hours.

Christine nudged me with her elbow. "Just open it - it's not as if they sent you a Howler. It's your parents, Eva. They love you whether you win or lose. You know that. Your dad probably just wants to tell you to keep your elbows tucked in."

I did know it, so I opened the letter.

_Eva,_

_Richard and Gareth wrote your mum and me last night to tell us about the match. I know you, and I know that right now you're upset and don't want to talk to anybody. I once tried to drown myself in the showers after we lost to Hufflepuff in my seventh year. It's okay to be upset because of a Quidditch loss and don't let anyone else tell you differently. To people like us, it's not just a game._

_But don't beat yourself up too much about this one loss. From what your brothers tell me, Gryffindor is still in the running for the Cup. The most important thing though, is that your brother said that the team played well and that you did an excellent job as captain. The scouts won't just be looking at your wins - they'll also be looking at your skills and captaining abilities. I lost plenty of matches when I was captain – some of them were downright pathetic. You just have to train harder and come up with new strategies, that's all._

_You'll be fine, I know it. _

_Love,_

_Dad_

_P.S. Your mum sends you her love and says not to push your team too hard._

_P.P.S. Keep your elbows tucked in._

Seriously? Were they ever going to let the elbows thing go?

But I did feel a bit better after reading the letter. At least Dad had been able to make me smile.

"See? Don't you feel better?" Christine asked, leaning over and giving me a one armed hug.

"A little," I agreed, swinging my legs over the bench. "Gotta run, I need to pop in to the library."

"The library? What for?"

"Research!" I called, already making my way out of the Great Hall. On my way I stopped behind Richard and Gareth.

"_Ahem_," I said quietly behind them and watched in amusement as they jumped in their seats and turned around with identical surprised looks.

"It was for your own good," Richard told me, looking so serious I almost laughed.

"It was," Gareth agreed. "Lily told us you were trying to drown yourself in the shower."

"I notice you didn't come in to save me."

The two exchanged a look then Gareth said, "We thought we'd let James do it. Seemed quite keen on it, actually."

Well, that was interesting. Or something. What was I supposed to say?

I settled on, "I'm off to the library. Cheers."

However, I didn't make it any farther than the doors to the Great Hall before Jonathan stopped me.

"Sorry about your loss yesterday," he said, his green eyes kind as always. "But everyone in Hufflepuff is saying your team played well."

Aside from Christine and my family, no one had mentioned the Quidditch match to me and I found that I appreciated Jonathan's up front manner.

"Thanks," I replied, truly meaning it. "It's rough, especially considering this was my first match as captain. I'm actually off to the library now. Secret captain business."

Jonathan laid a hand gently on my arm to stop me. "Listen, before you go….I know this is probably a bad time, but um…it's a Hogsmeade trip next Saturday. I wondering if you would like to go? With me?"

I stared at him for a moment, thinking that I couldn't have possibly heard him correctly. Jonathan Grant – Head Boy - wanted to take me to Hogsmeade? On a date? For real?

"Oh!" I said, snapping out of my stupor. "Yes, that would be nice."

I mean, sure, why not. Jonathan was a nice bloke.

"Excellent," he beamed, a smile splitting across his face. "We can set a time to meet up later, since you're busy now."

"See you in Herbology then," I smiled at him. I was finding that I was having difficulty trying to stop smiling, and I felt strange on the inside. Fluttery. How odd.

Once outside the doors to the Great Hall, I almost bumped into a very cross looking Gemma Finnegan.

"So, you and James Potter, huh?"

"Sorry, I have to run, I - " I stopped in the middle of my sentence as her words caught up with me. "_Wait_…what are you talking about?"

Gemma pretended to examine her fingernails as she refused to meet my eyes. "It's all over the castle that you and James Potter are dating."

Oh, Holy Hippogriffs.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thanks so much for reading for all of the fantastic reviews! Reviews, thoughts, comments, and constructive criticism welcome! I reply to all signed reviews.**

Thoughts on James's talk with Eva? Thoughts on Eva going to Hogsmeade with Jonathan? And why do people think that Eva is dating James? ;)

**Next chpter:** Eva is thoroughly confused, James is amused, and a lot of people have the wrong impression (or do they?).


	9. Rubbish Information

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_Chapter Nine:_ _Rubbish Information_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Dare I ask what you're doing?" Roxanne asked as she looked down at me, light brown eyes both curious and skeptical at the same time.

What I was doing was taking up an entire table in the common room with ten different open books on Quidditch that I had checked out from the library. I was pouring through each one searching for inspiration for new plays and training tactics.

"Research," I decided was the safest and easiest answer. "For Quidditch. We've got to step it up before the next match so that we can catch up in the points bracket."

There was a pause in which I thought she would walk away and then she asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Uh, okay."

Oh, look, this book has a couple of pages dedicated to a basic Chaser maneuver with Beater assistance. That's interesting. Maybe I could adapt something like this for the Gryffindor team.

"Are you going out with my cousin? James, I mean."

I nearly choked on nothing at all.

Okay, first Gemma and now Roxanne. Where were people getting this rubbish information? Have I expressed any interest in James Potter? Ever? Answer: No!

"Bloody hell, why do people keep assuming that? Of course I'm not going out with Potter!"

"Really?" She actually had the audacity to look _disappointed_. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you would make a cute couple because you're both so fanatical about Quidditch."

_Me and Potter? _No way. Absolutely not. I can't think of a worse idea, except for maybe befriending Lyra Rinaldi.

"Merlin, you should see your face," she laughed out loud suddenly. "You look as though I just suggested that you join up for the Slytherin team."

"Where did you hear that rumor?" I asked hesitantly, not entirely certain that I wanted to know. The rumor mill of Hogwarts could be a bit vicious.

"Well, I heard it from Gemma, who heard it from Jessica Walters, who heard Lyra Rinaldi discussing it with a group of Hufflepuffs. But everyone's talking about it."

"_Everyone_?" I asked, trying very, very hard not to cringe.

"Er…yeah, pretty much," she replied cautiously, but continued."You were seen holding hands and talking softly to each other outside the common room. Or so I hear."

All right, I could see how people might reach that conclusion if it were any two other people than me and Potter. But seriously – it's me and Potter!

Roxanne answered my silent question when she said, "People are saying that you two have…um….er…that the reason you row um, all of the time is because you have… er…" She trailed off and bit her lip nervously.

"Say it," I demanded in a hiss, half rising out of my chair to better look her in the eye.

"Chemistry," she mumbled, eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of her.

"_Chemistry with Potter_?" I cried loudly, completely and totally aghast at the very thought.

Roxanne cleared her throat loudly and too late I noticed that everyone in the common room was looking at us. Seriously, all heads were turned in interest to my table in the corner and people were staring unabashedly. Potter and his mates were among them.

Christopher and Fred's eyes were about popping out of their heads, but Potter was giving me the smirk he reserved for winding me up.

Brilliant, that's just what I needed to make this day even better.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I woke up early the next morning to run before Quidditch practice even though I had been up late the night before writing an essay for Charms that I had put off completing in favor of working on Quidditch research.

My world was a little crazy right now with the lost match to Slytherin and people thinking that I was dating James Potter.

I had run into Lyra in the corridors a few times since the match and had endured her stinging barbs about my captaining skills and the overall quality of the Gryffindor team. I told her that her Keeper was the worst I'd ever seen, but it didn't make me feel better and it didn't seem to bother her in the least.

All in all, I desperately needed to clear my head.

Once outside the castle, I decided that running around the Great Lake sounded like a good plan; I had probably thrown the Ravenclaws off enough since the start of term. This was my favorite spot to run and right now I needed this. I stood by a beach tree down on the shore and stretched my muscles a bit and then set out at a steady pace.

As I ran, I increased my pace so I that I was practically sprinting. My lungs gasped for air and the muscles of my legs burned, but I kept running. When I was running like this, there wasn't time to think about anything else. There was just the coolness of the air as I breathed it in and the feeling of my feet pounding into the hard earth. It was such a relief to be free of all of the thoughts that had been swirling around my mind since the match.

Exhausted, I stopped running and sat down by the edge of the lake. Or the loch, as my dad would have called it. I missed him, right now more than ever. I thought back to his letter and how he had said that Gryffindor had lost plenty of matches when he was the captain.

As much as I wanted his help and advice right now (though not about the whole rumor situation – Merlin, how embarrassing would _that _be to explain?) ultimately, I didn't want too much advice from my dad. I wanted to prove that the Gryffindor team was capable of a comeback on our own. People had said, and there had surely been whispers, that I was only the captain because my dad was Oliver Wood. Well, I was going to do this on my own.

As I entered the locker rooms, I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. To my extreme surprise, I saw that everyone else was already there and already dressed in their practice kit.

"Am I late?" I gasped, mortified at the thought of the captain showing up late. I glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until practice began.

"We wanted to show you that we're dedicated to improving and to winning our next match," Zara answered in an uncharacteristically solemn manner.

"You lot are brilliant!" I said, barely able to contain my joy. I wanted to hug each and every one of them. "This is _exactly _the sort of dedication we need. All right, well, I've prepared some notes on the match and since you'll all here, we'll dive right in."

In great detail, I went over every aspect of the match with the team, and discussed what we had done well, what we could have done better or differently, and the rough outlines of some of the new strategies and plays I hoped to create. I drew some diagrams on the chalkboard and explained my goals for practices leading up to the match against Hufflepuff.

"So, to sum up," I said finally, "we did very well, but there is certainly room for improvement. We'll be addressing our weaknesses from the match in practice until they're no longer weaknesses. Any questions?"

Nico stared at me through glazed over light blue eyes. "Did you actually just talk for a solid _hour_?"

"Yes, I did," I said, not bothering to look at the clock to see if he was exaggerating or not. "Part of practice and improving is first knowing where to begin. We have to have a plan. Now get out to the pitch. We're going to run some flying exercises."

Everyone filed out, chatting among themselves, as I wiped off the chalkboard. When I turned around, Potter was standing directly behind me.

I started in surprise. Apparently, he hadn't gone out to the pitch with the others like I had thought.

Potter, who had seen me at my absolute worst. Who I had thrown my arms around. Whose shoulder I had sobbed against. Who I had held hands with and who the majority of the school thought was my boyfriend.

Oh Merlin, just kill me now.

"Do you feel better today?" he asked, his tone a bit cautious. He was probably worried that I'd weep all over him again. I could hardly blame the bloke.

"Much better," I said, giving him a genuine smile. "After sitting down and thinking through the match, I realized that you, and a lot of other people, were right. We played a good match, and I'm not a failure. I had my initial break down about it – which was completely and utterly embarrassing - but now it's time to move on and to focus on the next match."

"Good," he nodded firmly, his eyes fixed on me. "C'mon, let's get out there and practice so we can destroy Hufflepuff."

In the aftermath of the Gryffindor loss, something had shifted between me and Potter. He had comforted me, made me feel better. He had let me see the real him, the one his family and friends saw. I couldn't simply go back to thinking that the boy was a complete and utter prat because he wasn't. Not all of the time, anyway. He was still a seventeen year old boy – I couldn't expect _too _much of him, now could I?

"Snogging in the locker rooms, how original," Zara drawled as James and I emerged out onto the pitch.

"It's about time, you two!" Bree called cheerfully, clapping her hands enthusiastically for emphasis.

I glanced sharply at James and then at the other team members who were all standing in a group waiting for us. Every last one of them was wearing an identically large grin as they watched the two of us.

"No!" I cried, absolutely horrified. How many times did I have to say it? "No, no, _no_! We are _not_ dating!"

I was met with only unconvinced stares. Even Richard didn't appear to believe me! Some brother. What a traitor.

"You don't have to be going out to be snogging," Zara winked at us, before mounting her broom and soaring off. Nico and Bree followed her lead.

"You're really not going out?" Richard asked, brown eyes glancing curiously between James and me. "Or snogging?"

For the record, being asked by your younger brother if you're snogging someone is extremely embarrassing. Especially when the person you're supposed to be snogging is standing right next to you.

"No, we're not," Potter answered for the both of us.

About time he spoke up and attempted to set people straight on this idiotic rumor.

"That's rubbish, you should be." Lily said in a matter of fact manner. "_You_," she pointed at James, "need to stop being such a prat to Eva. And _you_," she turned to point at me, "need to stop taking everything James says so seriously."

Before my brain could process all of that and form a response, they had joined the others up in the sky.

Okay… were Potter and I just told off/given relationship advice by a fourteen year old? That was a new experience.

As I stood there on the sidelines of the pitch with my mouth hanging open in pure shock, Potter started laughing loudly.

"Why are you laughing?" I demanded. For some reason, I found that I was on the verge of laughing as well. Only it felt kind of like hysterical panic laughter and not the kind where you laugh at a good joke. "Potter, people well and truly think we were _snogging_ in there!"

Potter merely laughed it off with a shrug. "Who cares what they think? Throwing a fit about it isn't going to make them change their minds. They'll just think we're hiding something. Also, Lily sounded _exactly_ like our mum."

That bit about hiding something sounded rather familiar. "Have you been talking to Sorcha?"

"Sorcha?" Potter's face scrunched up in distaste. "That girl is utterly mental and I go out of my way to avoid her."

"Easier said than done," I grumbled.

I ordered the team to stretch, do fifty crunches, and run eleven laps around the pitch, but kept Potter back once everyone started their laps.

"Potter," I said, stepping closer to him. "As your captain, I need to know why you didn't catch the Snitch."

His eyes narrowed bit and the smile faded from his face. "It happens, Wood. Malfoy was better. That's all."

I shook my head. No way in hell was I going to accept that pathetic answer. "That's not good enough for me. We're not going to stand a chance at the Cup with reasons like that."

"Look, you're not a Seeker, you wouldn't know," he shot back, clearly frustrated.

"I _know_ I'm not a Seeker, Potter," I replied in exasperation. "But I _am_ the captain and I do know a thing or two about the other positions on the team. I'm asking if there was something else – sun in your eyes, eyes strain, did Malfoy foul you? Do you need to work on your grip? On your flying?"

"Wood, he was better. That's it. Do you think I haven't thought this through practically every moment since the match ended? That I'm not kicking myself?" His voice became quiet. "Don't you think I know that I'm the reason we lost?"

"No, you're not. _We lost that match as a team_," I said, repeating his own words back to him.

He looked up sharply, brown eyes unreadable.

"Potter, we are a team and we win and lose together."

"Says the girl who was trying to drown herself in the shower," he muttered.

"Potter," I said, trying to remain focused. "I am the captain of this team and I'm asking you what we can do for you to improve before the next match. That's all I'm trying to do here. Think about it and let me know."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Walking into the seventh year girls' dormitory was something like walking into a war zone. Everything was wet and there were feathers scattered across the room with some still drifting slowly through the air. Gemma's bed hangings were still smoking slightly.

Gemma stood in the middle of the room, her wand clutched in her hand and a stunned look covering her face. Sorcha was standing on her bed in front of her Oliver Wood shrine with her arms spread wide, obviously attempting to protect her precious pictures. Roxanne and Christine peered out from behind the half closed bathroom door.

Is it sad that I don't even have to ask what went on here? That this has happened enough times that I don't find this sort of scene that unusual?

"Morning, all," I said as cheerfully as possible.

Roxanne and Christine seemed to feel that it was safe to venture out from the safely of the loo. They promptly began cleaning up the feathers and casting drying spells on their belongings while Gemma moaned about being sorry for setting things on fire again.

"Oh, Eva!" Sorcha cried in an alarmingly ecstatic tone of voice. She was still standing on her bed. "I heard about you and James! Veronica Reid told me she saw you holding hands! I always knew you two would end up together, I just knew it!

"Actually, James and I _aren't _going out," I wearily replied, rubbing my eyes. "That was just a misunderstanding and a silly rumor."

Sorcha jumped down off of her bed, giving me for the first time, a full view of her Oliver Wood shrine. What had to have been over twenty pictures of my dad as a young man stared back at me from the wall above her bed. Oh. Merlin. It was even worse than I had imagined. I looked away quickly, but the image was permanently etched onto my brain.

"I understand!" Sorcha was telling me gleefully. "You're keeping it a secret! It's just like how Oliver Wood and your mum kept their relationship a secret before they got married."

Oh, right. I forgot that Sorcha apparently knows more about my dad than I do.

Gemma walked into the loo and slammed the door behind her. Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

"That is not remotely correct," I answered, very confused. "Everyone knew about them because they were both well-known in the Quidditch world."

"It's all right, I know aaaall about it," Sorcha patted me on the shoulder in what I gathered was supposed to be a comforting manner like she thought she was my confidante or something. Personally, I'd rather be dead.

"James and I really aren't seeing each other," I said loudly, hoping that maybe raising my voice would get the point across. It was worth a shot. "It's not true. He doesn't fancy me, and I don't fancy him. End of story."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Sorcha winked cheerily at me. "It's our little secret."

Um, hello? If that was supposed to be a secret between us, there were definitely three other witnesses in the room. That is not what I call secret.

The moment that Christine had her rucksack strap slung over her shoulder I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out of the dorm. Merlin, instead of a placard that says, "Seventh Years" we should have a sign that reads, "Bedlam."

"_Please_ tell me that you don't believe this mental rumor going about?" I begged Christine as we made our way to breakfast.

"I know you don't fancy James and that he's not your secret boyfriend," she said by way of an answer.

It occurred to me then that I hadn't told Christine about Jonathan yet.

"I have some news," I said. "Jonathan Grant – he's my Herbology partner, remember? – he, uh, asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him."

Christine stopped walking. "He did? Eva that's wonderful!" She gave me a quick hug. "And you said yes!"

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

Christine's face adopted a slightly hesitant look. "Well, it's just that you said no to the other boys who have asked….I wondered if maybe you thought -"

"I didn't fancy Eric or Jack," I interrupted her. "Besides, Eric was when we were thirteen. I had just made the Quidditch team. I couldn't be bothered."

"See? That's what I'm talking about. 'Couldn't be bothered?' Eva, it's a date to Hogsmeade not a promise to _marry _someone."

We resumed walking, the sound of our shoes echoing on the stone floors.

"It's different for me," I insisted as we hopped over the trick step. "Playing Quidditch is very time consuming. I didn't have the time or energy to navigate a relationship. I'm not sure that I do now, actually, considering that I'm captain."

Christine eyed me with a shrewd sideways glance. "Do you fancy him? Jonathan?"

I gave a hesitant shrug in response. "Maybe I could. I like talking with him and I felt happy when he asked me to Hogsmeade. I thought…I dunno, he's nice and I thought I should give him a chance."

The truth was, I wasn't entirely certain of the whole date with Jonathan idea. I wondered if I hadn't gotten caught up in the moment when he asked me. He was a nice bloke, to be sure, but did I really fancy him? Did I have time for a relationship? I supposed I was willing to find out, and that had to mean _something_, yeah?

Christine nodded happily. "That sounds promising to me. Just give him a fair chance, that's all I'm saying. He's a nice guy."

That morning at breakfast I had a letter from Tristan.

_Dear Eva,_

_Richard wrote me about the match. I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted to win. But at least Gryffindor didn't lose by too wide of a margin. I'm sure you've done the math, but Gryffindor is still definitely in the running for the Cup. Just punch Rinaldi and Potter in the face or something. It will make you feel better._

_I've got some potentially big news, but nothing is final yet, so I won't say anything else. Just know that there may be something good coming up in my future. _

_Elena and I made things official. She likes Quidditch too, so I think you'd like her. She played for Slytherin when she was at Hogwarts. I know you're probably put off by the fact that she was a Slytherin, but she's nice, I swear!_

_I'd better go, I'm meeting Elena for lunch before afternoon practice._

_Tristan_

Merlin, I thought that my Gryffindor-to-the-core brother had better sense than to date a Slytherin. Especially one that had played for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Not all Slytherins were bad news, but the ones on their Quidditch team usually were. I mean, look at Rinaldi and that hulk Banks. The verdict is still out on Malfoy.

And what was this utter rubbish about something big possibly coming up in his future? Until the current Puddlemere Keeper, Rhys, either signed a contract with another side or retired (or I suppose was injured), Tristan would be on the reserves. Why couldn't he just be happy with that?

I mean, perhaps there was something else in his life that he could have big news about, but what else was there but Quidditch?

And here I was hoping that a letter from my older brother would brighten up an otherwise mentally painful morning. What rubbish.

My fortunes did not improve considering my first lesson of the day was Arithmancy.

"James, your girlfriend is here!" Fred cried loudly in mock delight as I walked into the classroom. Every head turned and looked at me and some even watched me take my seat next to Potter. Whispers broke out across the classroom.

"Told you it was true!"

"I thought she didn't like him?"

"Neither did I."

"It's so romantic!"

"Potter," I said tonelessly, staring straight ahead of me, "I'm going to kill your cousin."

The three boys just laughed.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"If it isn't the Gryffindor loser of the hour," Lyra laughed as I nearly ran into her as I turned the corner on my way to my next lesson.

"You'd know all about being on the losing side, Rinaldi," I replied, adjusting the shoulder strap of my rucksack. "How much was it that Slytherin lost by in the final two years ago? 350 points, wasn't it?"

Her dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "Considering your team was just defeated by Slytherin, you of all people should know that that season is in the past. I've put together the best team the school has seen in years."

"If by 'put together' you mean that Malfoy joined the team," I tried to scoff, "I might remind you that a good team is more than its Seeker."

"And yet," Lyra practically sang, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, "_My_ Seeker beat _your_ Seeker, and _my_ team beat _your_ team."

With those parting words, she brushed past me striding down the corridor, looking overly pleased with herself.

What a cow.

"I hope this lesson is easy because I am having a _seriously_ off day," I told Jonathan as I plopped down on to the bench beside him in Herbology and dropped my rucksack on the ground with a loud thump.

After lessons, I'm going to go take a stress relieving fly. I haven't done that in ages and I needed to forget all of this malarkey.

"Does your off day have something to do with the rumor that you're going out with James Potter?"

Holy Hippogriffs! I hadn't even thought of what Jonathan must think of the rumors flying around the castle. He probably thinks I'm a slag now.

"That is not remotely true!" I protested earnestly. "I swear, it's not. Potter and I don't fancy each other. That stupid rumor just started because some sixth years saw us walking back from the match together. And yeah, we were holding hands I guess, but it was because he gave me hand up because I was sitting on the floor and he came in to talk to me because I was upset about Gryffindor losing and I didn't even notice and it wasn't anything and -"

"Hold on there!" Jonathan gently covered my blabbing mouth with a cool hand. "I didn't think it was true at all. If you were already seeing Potter, you wouldn't have agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me. You're not that kind of girl."

"Oh," I said stupidly in response. "Well, then."

His green eyes were laughing behind his glasses. "No one's listened to your protests to the contrary?"

"Well, Christine, my brothers, Roxanne, and most everyone on the Quidditch team knows we're not, but Gemma and Sorcha won't listen to reason along with apparently the rest of the bleeding school."

"People often find invented rumors to be more interesting than the truth. The idea that the Gryffindor captain is secretly going out with a member of the Potter family is certainly more interesting than the truth that she's accompanying a Hufflepuff to Hogsmeade."

"I'm glad to be going with you," I decided. "Honestly."

He smiled back. "Me too."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thanks so much for reading for all of the fantastic reviews! **

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Next chapter:** A Quidditch strategy meeting, some first names are finally used, and James and Eva have a long, interesting conversation. :)


	10. Quidditch Strategy

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_Chapter Ten: Quidditch Strategy _

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Richard was ace at Quidditch strategy, so two days before the next Quidditch practice, I kidnapped him and made him sit down and work on plays with me. Christine had started out sitting with us, but had eventually moved locations to work in the library with Kieran and his mates. Apparently she couldn't concentrate with us talking Quidditch. But before she left she had reminded me about the essay for McGonagall.

"What about modifying the Hawkshead Attacking Formation?" Richard suggested.

We fell silent as Veronica Reid walked by. She was probably looking for more information about the Gryffindor team to pass along to her Slytherin boyfriend. Seriously, where is that girl's House pride?

"How do you mean?" I asked, once Veronica and her upturned nose were on the other side of the common room. But I made certain to keep my voice low, just in case.

"Normally, the Chasers start the formation on the other end of the pitch from the other team's goal post. But that can give the other team time to potentially break up the formation."

"So start the formation later, once the Chasers are already on the opposing side of the pitch," I finished for him.

"It might be initially more difficult to get into formation, but once the Chasers are in formation, they'd be nearly unstoppable. You could make the formation quickly and be in front of the hoops before anyone could stop you."

"Excellent."

I love the ways in which his mind works.

"Also, what about rotating the formation?" Richard asked, the wheels of his mind turning quickly. He pulled a piece of parchment towards him and started charting a play diagram. "Like this," he shoved the parchment towards me. "See? The lead Chaser carries the Quaffle in the center position, but rotating who the lead Chaser is would confuse the other team."

"You're brilliant!" I cried, reaching across the table and ruffling his brown hair.

"Mind if I join the strategy party?"

Richard and I had been so wrapped up in our Quidditch plays that we hadn't even noticed James Potter approaching our table.

"'Course, mate," Richard agreed at once, pushing out the chair next to me with his foot and motioning for Potter to take a seat.

"Thanks, Richard," Potter said as he sat down next to me. "So, what do you have so far?"

Now, wait just a minute. Since when are Richard and Potter suddenly mates?

"We've just been working on plays for the Chasers," I told him with a sideways glance.

"Figures," he said with an undignified snort.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a Chaser, so you're favoring your own position."

"You didn't let me finish," I protested. Well, Potter's here now, so I might as well make the most of it. "We haven't worked on the other positions yet. But I _would _like your opinion on what you could be doing differently as Seeker."

"Hold that thought," Potter said, holding up a finger and rising out of his chair.

"Are you _positive_ that you're not his girlfriend?" Richard asked after Potter had disappeared up the boy's staircase.

"_What?_" I drew my eyes away from that stupid poster about Potter's abdominal muscles that was (of course) still stuck to the stairwell wall. "No. I'm actually going to Hogsmeade with a Hufflepuff named Jonathan."

"_What?_" Richard all but cried. It was very strange to see him so riled up about something that didn't relate to Quidditch. Usually he's quite unflappable. "When did this happen? Does Tristan know? And really – a _Hufflepuff_?"

"He asked me the day after the match," I replied evenly. "And it's not your business anyway. I haven't told Tristan yet because it's just one date. Did you know that he's apparently seeing some girl named Elena?"

Richard waved off this news concerning Tristan's love life. Mine was obviously more important. I felt so special.

"We're your brothers – we need to know these things so we can protect you."

"Protect me?" I spluttered, feeling rather indignant. "From _what_?"

Richard leaned closer to me, and said in a low voice. "Men and their…_intentions_."

I rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair. "I can't believe that Tristan brainwashed you into believing that I can't take care of myself. Might I remind you that I was the only one who kept my head in a certain incident last summer?"

"I thought we agreed to never speak about that again," Richard replied, eyes darting around the room to make certain that no one had heard.

"_I_ never agreed to anything," I argued. "The three of you screamed your bleeding lungs out while I was left to deal with the situation. I think that entitles me to tell whomever I want."

I will stand by that statement too.

"Found it!" Potter came bounding down the stairs just in time. "Sorry for the delay, Fred was being a plank."

"No worries, I was just reminding Richard of some fond family memories," I smirked in my brother's direction while he glowered unhappily.

"This," Potter said, setting a black notebook binder down on the table with great reverence, "is my playbook."

I raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to ooh and ahh?"

"Shut up," Potter told me, but his tone was teasing rather than harsh. "I've had this for ages. My mum and dad gave it to me when I made the team back in third year."

"My mum and dad gave me this playbook when I joined the team," I said with a fond recollection as I patted the open notebook in front of me.

"How are they not dating," Richard muttered softly to himself. I ignored him. That boy knew nothing.

"So, here are my thoughts on Seeker strategy," Potter said gingerly opening the book.

I looked down at his open book and felt my mouth drop open without my consent.

"Holy Hippogriffs, Potter!" I breathed as my eyes took in the pages. I reached out and flipped through the pages of the notebook. There were a few empty pages at the very end, but every other page was absolutely crammed full of information.

"Feel free to ooh and ahh all you like," he smirked slightly, brown eyes practically sparkling. "So what's in yours?" Potter asked, his hand extending to grab my playbook.

"No!" I cried, grabbing his hand and stopping him.

Potter frowned slightly in confusion. "Why not?"

"I-I" I stammered, desperately trying to think of an excuse.

"What? You write love notes in here?" he smirked again. _Why _must he smirk all of the time?

He tried to move my hands out of the way.

"Potter, I'm the captain and my playbook is secret!" I snapped finally.

He pulled his hands quickly away from the book as though I had burned him.

"I showed you _my_ playbook," he said, his tone low. If I didn't know better, I would say that his tone was almost hurt.

"Yeah, well, I'm the captain. And I don't _want _to show you mine."

"Some captain you're being," Potter scoffed. "I showed you my book so that maybe we could all come up with ideas on how to beat Hufflepuff in the next match. Sorry for bothering you."

He roughly pushed back his chair and stood up, snatching his playbook off of the table. I thought of how kind he had been after the match against Slytherin and what he had said about just wanting to help the team.

As he made to brush past me, I grabbed his forearm. He had really warm skin, just like my brothers. Must be a bloke thing.

He looked down at my hand on his arm and then looked up at my face.

"I'm sorry," I told him, biting my lip as I metaphorically swallowed my pride.

He regarded me with an unreadable expression. I merely looked back at him, hoping that my expression was steady and honest.

Across the table, Richard cleared his throat. "I've got to go finish my Defense homework," he said, pushing away from the table. "Bye."

"I was being stupid," I said to Potter, picking up my playbook in my free hand and holding it up in front of him. "Here. Look at it all you want."

"I need to go," he replied quietly, looking away from me. "See you at practice."

I didn't try to stop him. I watched him walk away over to his friends, my mind a bit fuzzy. The days since the Quidditch match had been so strange. I didn't know quite what to make of the way Potter was acting. I knew things would be different after I wept on his shoulder, but this was just downright weird.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I was sitting on my bed finishing the next day's schoolwork when Christine returned from studying in the library with Kieran. Roxanne was sitting on her own bed scribbling rather loudly on a piece of parchment.

"Did you finish that Transfiguration essay?" was the first thing Christine asked when she walked in the door to the dormitory.

I lowered _Advanced Charms_ and fixed her with a mock glare. "Yes,_ mum_. You'd think I was a poor student or something by the way you're carrying on."

"I just don't want you to forget about your schoolwork while you're worrying about Quidditch."

"Strategy meeting ended early," I admitted. "Potter came over and wanted to help, but then I sort of went off the deep end after he showed me his playbook."

"He showed you his _playbook_?" Roxanne suddenly asked, incredulous. "His _playbook_, playbook?"

"Well, yeah," I shrugged. "So?"

"_So_," Roxanne stressed, "he's never shown it to anyone before. I mean, anyone. Not his friends, not even anyone from the family. And we all know just about everything about each other." She thought for a moment, then said, "I have to go talk to Fred, see you later."

And with that, she was out the door, the sound of her footsteps echoing off of the stairs as she practically ran.

I felt myself biting my lip as I processed Roxanne's words. Potter had never shown anyone his playbook, but he had shown it to me. I might have been his captain, but that didn't mean he had to share his ideas with me.

Brilliant, now I felt like an awful person.

It was just… after seeing Potter's playbook, I suddenly felt as though my own was inadequate. In reality, mine had some pretty ace ideas in it and there was nothing wrong with it at all. I wouldn't have been chosen as captain if I had rubbish ideas for team strategy. It was a moment of doubt brought on by Potter. With anyone else, I wouldn't have reacted the way I did with him.

"Do you think Potter has been acting…_odd_ lately?" I asked slowly, unsure that I was phrasing my question properly.

"I don't think so. As far as I can see, he's acting the same as he ever did," Christine said carefully after considering the question for a moment. "Still stubborn, determined, bit snarky. What exactly do you mean when you say odd?"

"Er…well…after the Quidditch match…" I trailed off, hesitant to say what had happened. Good grief, I was making it sound as though we had snogged or something.

"Did he kiss you?" Christine asked eagerly.

"_No_!" I answered adamantly. "I'm going to Hogsmeade with Jonathan, remember? Anyway, I was in the showers and – "

"_What_?" Christine gasped. Whoa, I didn't know she could hold her eyes open that wide.

"_Still in my Quidditch robes_," I finished with what I'm certain was a rather exasperated look. "He came to make sure that I wasn't trying to drown myself or something. I ended up…er… throwing my arms around him and…um, sobbing into his shoulder. He essentially told me he was sorry for being so rotten about the whole captain thing. And then he helped me and Richard with Quidditch strategy this evening, and he was rather normal until I freaked out on him."

Christine wore an expression that was a strange mix of knowing and curiosity. It was very odd. And disconcerting. But mostly odd.

"It sounds to me," Christine began thoughtfully, "as though James is still upset that he wasn't named captain."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Christine held up her hand to silence me.

"He's still upset, but he's trying not to be. I think that's why he's coming across…the way he is. Perhaps he doesn't want to be cross with you, but you're an easy target because you have the captain's badge."

I considered how I would have felt if I had been the one in Potter's position. Attending practices that he felt he should have been in charge of, having to answer to me concerning his performance during the match, told to butt out of strategy meetings. I would have been consumed with feelings of inadequacy and jealousy and it would have tormented me.

Just like it was tormenting Potter now.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I pushed the team hard at the next practice three days later. We needed to improve all of our plays and to increase our endurance. Bree, Lily, and I had come a long way towards improving our Hawkshead Attacking Formation, and soon I felt that we would be ready to implement the modifications that Richard had suggested.

It was raining, a light freezing drizzle, and I was nearly shivering underneath all of my layers, but I was pleased that we were getting in some practice in inclement weather. We had to be prepared for any kind of conditions for the next match.

"Potter, a word please," I called as everyone was getting ready to leave the locker rooms at the end of practice.

Both James and Lily turned to look at me. They looked at each other, then back to me, eyebrows questioningly raised in exactly the same manner. Wow, there is no doubt that these two are related.

"James, I mean," I clarified.

Zara let out a wolf whistle and I threw one of my arm guards at her. She tried to dodge it as she ran out the door, but I pegged her in the back.

"Ha!" I crowed triumphantly after her. "That's what you get!"

Everyone else laughed as they filed out and then it was just Potter and me left standing alone in the slightly smelly common area of the locker room.

"Potter, I never had the chance to apologize properly about the whole thing with the playbooks," I said, my voice sounding somewhat small in the empty room. "I…I…"

I tugged at my ponytail that lay over my shoulder as I tried to think of how to put what I wanted to say into words.

"What I'm trying to say is…the way I acted was…unnecessary."

"I understand," Potter said, smirking. "My playbook was really awesome and you felt that yours didn't match up. It's okay. It's understandable."

My mouth dropped open in astonishment. He was completely correct, but I could never tell him that. He'd be insufferable, more so than he tended to be now.

Besides, I had looked over my own playbook yesterday and after reviewing its pages, I realized that any of my plays were equal to that of Potter's. And some were better, if I did say so myself.

And what happened to Potter being angry? Why is he all of the sudden back to his normal self?

"Please," I tried to brush away my obvious looks of earlier surprise with a small smirk of my own. "Potter, my playbook is going to win us the Cup."

"You know," he said, surprising me all over again, "seeing as you've cried all over my shoulder, you should probably call me James."

I stared at him for a moment. Call Potter…James…? I blinked slowly.

"You call me Wood," I pointed out.

Even as I said the words, I realized that they weren't strictly true. From the back of my mind suddenly burst the memory of him calling me Eva as I cried in his arms in the locker room after the Slytherin match.

Potter (James?) shrugged easily. "I have no problem with calling you Eva. It's a pretty name. Eva."

I felt my face grow warm at his words. Holy Hippogriffs, was I blushing at something James Potter had said to me? What was going on? This was madness! I was going mental…for real!

I fully expected him to make a snarky or at least playful comment on my red stained cheeks, but he didn't. That boy is just full of surprises today.

Instead he said, "Also, there are two Potters on the team now – it might get a bit confusing if you're just yelling 'Potter'. Lily might think you're yelling at her instead of at me."

I crossed my arms, my face thankfully back to its normal temperature. "You act as though I pick at you all of the time or something."

"You do!" he protested adamantly, as we exited the locker room and started making our way back up to the castle. "I didn't see you telling anyone else out there today to fix their grip."

"Well, you should know better than to have a sloppy hold because besides me, you've been on the team the longest," I pointed out logically.

I wasn't picking on him, but he was being sloppy today and that's simply not acceptable if we're going to make a comeback and win the Cup.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have your elbows tucked in properly and you're hurting my esteem as a Seeker," he pretended to sniff.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come off it. You know full well that you're a brilliant Seeker."

He cocked his head to the side slightly, all arrogance suddenly vanished. "You really think that?"

I felt my face redden. Again. Whoops, hadn't meant to let that slip. That was firmly in the category of things Potter – I mean, James - was never supposed to find out, along with the fact that I thought he had a nice abdominal section.

"Er…well, yeah," I stammered. "You wouldn't be on the team if you weren't."

He seemed pleased by that answer because he grinned widely. "I _knew_ you thought I was the best player on the team."

"Hey, now," I responded, poking him hard in the shoulder. "I said you were brilliant, not that you were the best."

"Same thing," he flippantly waved off my explanation.

"Is not!"

"All right, then who _is_ the best?" he asked, brown eyes challenging me. I could tell that he was holding back a smirk.

"Not you," I replied with a grin.

"Oh, you definitely think it's me." He sounded very self assured. Prat.

"Fine, I think it's…" I struggled to think of a good lie. "Nico!"

Potter – oops, James - merely snorted at this answer. "If you have to think about it, you're lying."

"Nico's a good player," I defended. And he was too.

"Oh, he is," Potter agreed easily. "But not as good as me or you."

Pott – James complimenting me? What next?

Even so, there was no way in hell that I was going to admit that I had always thought of us as pretty much equals on the pitch. It was difficult to compare us exactly because we played different positions, but we were both excellent fliers and players. It was in our blood.

"Although I do have a slight advantage over you," James smirked, glancing sideways at me. His brown eyes were sparkling with laughter and he was wearing the smirk he wore when he was winding me up.

"Sorry?" I questioned. "But I do believe that I'm the captain, which gives _me_ a slight edge over _you_. And speaking of which, I want to say something while we're not rowing. Even though this might cause a row. I think it's rather hypocritical of you to suggest that I'm captain because my dad is Oliver Wood. If you had been named captain, I could have said it was because your mum played professionally and now writes about Quidditch for _The Daily Prophet_ and that your dad is Harry Potter."

"Yeah, people probably would have said that," he shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. "It would have stung, to hear that…that's why I said it to you."

At my questioning look he elaborated. "I was angry. I'm not…well, you know from past experience… Al says I'm not a very gracious loser."

There was a silence in which I thought about what he had said, but then James said with a small smirk, "I still say you were snogging O'Mara."

He had accused me of that before, but now the words lacked the venom that they had previously held. In fact, it sounded as though he was joking.

"Why do you keep assuming that?" I asked throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation. "I. Never. Snogged. Sean. Not even once. Okay, I pecked him on the cheek once after we won the Cup in fifth year, but that was _not_ a snog!"

"He fancied you," Potter – James – said with a slight jerk of his head. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and kicked at a stone in the path.

Hold on…_what_?

"That can't be right," I responded, picking through my brain, thinking back to last term. "I mean, I know I'm terribly unobservant when it comes to relationships and people, but surely…" I trailed off, thinking hard. "I suppose it did take me a month to notice that Christine fancied Kieran. I couldn't figure out why she wanted to sit near him and his mates when we were studying in the library. She stared at him all the bleeding time and he was staring right back and I didn't have a clue."

Pott – James looked as though he'd been hit over the head with a Beater's bat. "Finding excuses to talk to you, trying to impress you, flirting with you, arguing with other blokes that like you as well, winding you up to see you angry because it makes your eyes blaze and - I mean…you wouldn't take that to mean anything out of the ordinary?"

"Sean didn't do any of that," I argued, thoroughly confused. I totally would have noticed if Sean had acted like that towards me. Wouldn't I? We chatted sometimes off of the pitch, but we didn't spend much time together outside of Quidditch.

James laughed ruefully and shook his head. "Eva Wood, you are not like other girls."

I was wondering if I should be offended by that statement when he added, "You should take that as a compliment. Because it definitely is."

Um…I kind of feel as if my worldview has changed in the last twenty minutes.

"I told Christine and Kieran that I would meet them in the library," I informed James as we reached the Entrance Hall. "Christine said she'd bring my rucksack so I don't need to go back to the Tower."

"Oh," he said, seeming a bit disappointed. "Well, see you… _Eva_."

"Bye… _James_," I mimicked, smiling. He smiled back just before he rounded the corner.

Inside the library, I passed Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy sitting at a table tucked in a nook between some shelves, quietly arguing over a thick book with a moldy looking cover as I searched for my friends. A group of third years at another table had what appeared to be an entire shelf of books laid out in front of them as they searched frantically through for some elusive information.

"Over here!" Kieran waved at me from a table next to the Charms section. How practical and Ravenclaw of him.

"Can I join you?" I teased. I hadn't given them a hard time about being a third wheel in ages, so I felt it was overdue.

"Sit," Kieran instructed with his usual friendly smile. He motioned to the vacant chairs across from him and Christine.

"It's_ studying_," Christine said in an exasperated tone. "We've been over this. You can't be a third wheel if we're just writing essays. And stop thinking of it as being a third wheel. We're all friends."

"I seem to remember a rather sickening flirting session between the two of you last year while we were all trying to study for a Charms exam around Valentine's Day," I argued, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "I don't know what else to call that but third wheel."

Kieran had the decently to look contrite and his cheeks even grew a bit pink. "But it was the day before Valentine's Day," he protested. "And it was around our fourth month anniversary."

"See, you know what exactly I'm talking about!" I smirked in triumph. Holy Hippogriffs, I'm smirking. Potter – James, I mean – is rubbing off on me. Oh, Merlin, this can't be good.

"Fine, fine, we're guilty. But don't judge us too harshly. You have a date of your own this weekend, you know," Christine reminded me. "Speaking of which, what are you going to wear?"

Hm…I hadn't thought of that. At all. Whoops. I supposed I had a nice new Puddlemere jumper that I hadn't had the chance to wear yet. The early November weather had been chilly. I wanted to look nice, but I didn't want to spend my day being unnecessarily cold either.

"And no Puddlemere jumpers, sweaters, or jackets," Christine informed me sternly, apparently reading my mind.

Oh, bugger.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks so much to all of my wonderful reviewers and also to everyone who has favorited or put this story on alert! You guys are awesome! :)<strong>

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Next chapter:** Eva goes to Hogsmeade with Jonathan – sorry to those of you who didn't want that to happen but this plot development was always supposed to be a part of the story. It's what's best for Eva in the long run, I promise! Also, Fred gets lots of page time next chapter!


	11. Hogsmeade with Jonathan

_Chapter Eleven: Hogsmeade with Jonathan_

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The morning of the Hogsmeade trip, I met Jonathan outside in the courtyard after breakfast like we had agreed during our last Herbology lesson.

Even though I was perfectly capable of putting together a presentable outfit, Christine had insisted on helping me dress for my first ever date.

I hadn't really thought of my date with Jonathan in those terms – my first ever date. I had been asked a couple of times before, but had said no due to a lack of interest.

But those two offers had been the exception. It wasn't exactly that boys weren't interested in me because I played Quidditch, but Christine reckoned that boys found me slightly intimidating because I was skilled on the pitch, did well in my academic courses, and was more than capable of taking care of myself and holding my own.

Generally, I was fine with simply walking around Hogsmeade with my mates, but I dunno…It had been nice to be asked out by someone. I didn't consider myself as the romantic type, but I had woken up this morning with my insides squirming in anxious anticipation.

"Hi," Jonathan greeted me with his usual warm smile. He was wearing a pair of dark trousers with a blue sweater under his cloak. His Head Boy badge was pinned smartly to the left side of his chest and his Hufflepuff scarf was neatly and evenly draped around his neck. He looked handsome as usual.

"Hi," I greeted him in return, willing my nervous to calm down. I had three brothers and talked with boys on a regular basis. This was absolutely ridiculous, being nervous over a _boy_.

But I supposed that this wasn't just any boy…he was my date.

"You look very nice," Jonathan told me as we started walking down the path that led to the little village.

After rejecting five different outfits suggested by Christine (much to her annoyance), I was glad that my final choice had been a good one. I was wearing a knee length charcoal grey skirt with a dark green long sleeved blouse that I had forgotten I owned until Christine had taken it upon herself to rummage around in the back of my wardrobe.

The skirt had been Christine's suggestion. I had protested that while I had nothing against wearing skirts, I did have something against needlessly freezing. It was November in Scotland for Merlin's sake. I was not going to risk catching pneumonia and missing any of the Quidditch season.

After a slightly heated debate in which Christine told me I would have to go starkers if I didn't choose something, I compromised on the skirt issue by saying that I would wear my black school tights to help keep me warm.

"I met your brothers," Jonathan said as we walked along among the hoard of students heading to Hogsmeade for the day. "They cornered me coming out of the Hufflepuff common room and wanted to discuss my intentions towards you."

I stopped walking and faced Jonathan with what I'm sure was a positively horrified expression. "They didn't."

I had never felt so mortified in my life. What nosy sods, not trusting me to go on a simple date with a perfectly nice and respectable bloke. I mean, it doesn't get much more respectable than a Hufflepuff Head Boy that wants to work in rights for non-magical creatures. It just doesn't.

He nodded with a polite smile. "But I don't mind. I assured them that my intentions were purely honorable."

As we continued walking, he added, "Actually, once we made it past the intentions bit, they were most keen to know which Quidditch team I follow."

His words put me a bit at ease, and I couldn't help but laugh at this. "That sounds_ just_ like Richard and Gareth."

"Is your entire family so…" he paused as he searched for the right words. "_consumed_ with Quidditch?"

"Absolutely," I replied easily. "My dad played professionally and now coaches Puddlemere, my mum is an editor at Quidditch Weekly, and my older brother is on the Reserve team at Puddlemere. I play, Richard plays and wants to be a strategist for a professional team, and Gareth wants to be a Quidditch trainer. We love the game. The strategy, the practice, the effort, the triumph of winning, the friendships and rivalries…the match itself. It's brilliant, all of it. And I _love_ it. I can't imagine my life without it."

"Uh, wow," was his slightly stunned sounding response.

That's right, there is no such thing as too enthusiastic when it concerns Quidditch. I refuse to pretend that I don't love it as much as I do. I am who I am, and if he doesn't like it well, that's too bad for him.

His face took on an apprehensive look. "There is something I should be up front about…" he said slowly.

"Yes?" I prompted when he didn't say anything further. Way to leave a girl hanging there with that statement.

He stopped walking, took a deep breath and then bent his knees a bit so he could look me straight in the eyes.

"I'm not really keen on Quidditch. At all."

All I could do was stare blankly back at him. How could someone not like Quidditch? It was only the best thing/sport/pastime invented. Like, ever.

"What do you do for fun?" I finally asked stupidly.

Jonathan just laughed in his usual good-natured manner. "I read a lot. And I like music, I play the piano. I dunno… I like learning about other cultures."

"I-I mean…" I stammered, trying very, very (I mean, _very_) hard to grasp the concept of not liking Quidditch, "What's…what don't you… _like_ about it?"

Jonathan scratched the back of his neck. "It's a bit violent for my taste. And the rules are very confusing and everything happens so quickly."

"But that's what makes Quidditch great!" I exclaimed, completely flabbergasted.

I am on a date with a delusional boy who doesn't understand or like Quidditch. And what's worse – doesn't want to. This may be a problem.

"I'd rather watch cricket," he admitted and I just about cried/ had an aneurysm.

Cricket over Quidditch?! I would rather be dead, thank you very much.

Okay, maybe that's a little extreme. But not really.

We continued walking as my mind whirred with trying to understand what Jonathan was telling me. Coming from the family I did, not liking Quidditch was just…well, it just _didn't happen_.

"Sorry," I told him shaking my head a bit as we approached the High Street. "It's just…the idea of not liking Quidditch. It's practically my whole life, so it's a difficult concept to grasp."

"Your entire life can't be just Quidditch!" he laughed good-naturedly, clearly under the delusion that I was joking.

Oh, he has no idea. I don't really have hobbies that don't involve Quidditch. It's my pastime and my future career. I mean, okay, yeah, of course I do other stuff, but Quidditch is the main theme of my life.

"No, it _really is_," I insisted. "I live and breathe it. Besides my family and friends, it's what I love most in the world. My life goal is to play professionally. For Puddlemere, of course."

"Want to go in?" Jonathan motioned to the bookshop, Tomes and Scrolls.

"All right," I agreed. "I want to see if the new book in the _Infiltrator_ series has been released yet."

"I've never heard of those," he commented as he held the door open so that I could walk in first.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Potter and his mates pass by us heading in the direction of Zonkos. Fred was laughing in an uproarious manner and Potter was looking as though he'd been hit with several stunning spells in rapid succession.

"They're about a witch named Isabel who infiltrates an all-male Quidditch club by hiding her identity," I explained as we entered the shop. "They're absolutely _brilliant_."

It was my favorite book series of all time. At the end of the third book, Isabel had been named Lead Chaser on the fictional all-male team, but was no closer to revealing her true identity to the Keeper, whom she was in love with. Also, a reporter for a Quidditch magazine was digging deeper into her story and had come close to putting her career in jeopardy.

"What's your favorite book?" he pondered, clearly amused by my answer.

"Well, aside from the _Infiltrator_ series, probably _Quidditch Through the Ages_ or _He Flew Like a Madman_."

Jonathan looked surprised. He really shouldn't have after everything I'd told him. "What's the last non-Quidditch themed book that you read? Seriously."

I racked my brain, trying hard to think of something, but nothing came to mind. "Er…do textbooks count?"

Jonathan looked astonished. "We should find you some free reading material while we're here."

"I already have some," I protested. Okay, they were the Quidditch books I had checked out from the Hogwarts library last week, but they weren't for classes. That had to count for something, yeah?

"Quidditch manuals and rulebooks don't count," he added with a knowing look.

Well, that's hardly fair, I say.

"I don't have time for free reading! I have super secret Quidditch captain research I need to be working on," I explained matter-of-factly. "What's _your _favorite book?" I asked, trying to defer the questions away from my all-encompassing love of Quidditch.

"_The Inalienable Personal and Professional Rights of House Elves in the United Kingdom_ by Hermione Granger-Weasley."

Er….

"Just kidding," he said, much to my great relief. "It's a valuable book for my chosen field, but it's not the sort that's really favorite free-reading material. I'm partial to _Wands of Destiny_ by Hugh Llewellyn-Jones."

"I have read that," I said. Oh, I guess I do read non-Quidditch books every now and then. I had to see what all of the fuss was about considering everyone else was reading it.

"Here's some free reading material for you," Jonathan said, holding up a small book with a deep green cover that looked almost moldy.

"_Encyclopedia of Toadstools_," I read aloud. I raised my eyebrows in question.

"Sounds thrilling, right?" he laughed as he placed it back on the shelf.

To my great disappointment, Book Four of the series was not yet available, but Jonathan found a new thriller about a wizard that traveled forward in time to prevent some sort of potential crisis.

The Three Broomsticks was crowded as we made our way there for lunch.

"Do you have siblings?" I asked as we waited for our food to arrive.

Jonathan shook his head. "No, it's just me. But I don't mind, really. My parents maintain a nice balance between being there for me and giving me my space, and we're close. I've never actually wanted siblings, strange as that may sound to you."

"My brothers do drive me mad sometimes," I allowed with a fond smile, "but I love them. I can't even imagine having grown up without them. There wouldn't have been anyone to push me out trees or for me to blame things on."

His eyebrows rose in confusion. "They pushed you out of a tree?"

"It was done out of love," I replied. This only served to confuse him further. I couldn't say that I blamed him, but not having siblings of his own, he could never understand the bond between my brothers and I.

My Quidditch career is obviously my top priority in life, but if I ever do get married and have kids, I want at least two or three so that they can have what I had with my brothers. I can't envision a better way to grow up.

"Is it difficult, being the only girl?"

"Yes, and no," I considered. "On one hand, it's nice that there's no one to steal my clothes. But on the other hand, growing up with three brothers did_ not_ prepare me for living in a dormitory full of girls."

He thought that was particularly funny. I decided that I rather liked being seen as funny instead of just mental.

Our food came, a chicken pasty for me and a toasted sandwich for him. We were just about tuck in when Lyra Rinaldi and two of her friends walked past the table. Or at least they would have walked past if Lyra hadn't spotted me.

"Eva Wood and the Head Boy," she sneered in her usual snide manner. "How…quaint. Tell me, what does Potter think of this? I thought I heard a rumor that you were going out with him."

Stupid cow. She knew full well that she had been going around spreading that ridiculous rumor.

"You know that's not true. Bugger off, Rinaldi," I snapped at her.

"Someone's touchy," one of Rinaldi's friends said with a sardonic smile. I didn't even know the girl's name. Catherine? Chelsea? I don't pay much attention to Slytherins that aren't on their Quidditch team.

Lyra flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You aren't still upset about the match are you? After all, the best team won."

"Slytherin was _far _from being the best team. In case you missed it, your Keeper could barely hold onto the Quaffle. And I chose my Beaters based on skill rather than size."

"If Gryffindor was so good, _why did you lose_?" Her eyes were such a dark brown that they were practically black and they glinted angrily in the dim lighting of the pub.

"We'll win the Cup. You can count on that."

I was not going to lose to Rinaldi and the Slytherins. The Cup would be Gryffindor's. We would beat Ravenclaw in the final to win the Cup or die trying.

"I think it's time you moved along," Jonathan spoke up. His voice was quiet but filled with stern authority. I suddenly had a better understanding of why he was Head Boy.

Lyra flicked her eyes to him and gave him a piercing glare but he gazed steadily back at her. I don't even think he blinked. Then her eyes swiveled back to me.

"Him?" she jerked her head at Jonathan, sending her long, dark hair swinging, "Over Potter?"

"I said, _bugger off,"_ I said through gritted teeth at the same time that Jonathan said, "Move on, Rinaldi."

Rinaldi and her mates sent one final quick smirk our way before sashaying away and over to their own table across the pub.

I had never noticed it before, but there was a huge difference in the way that James smirked at me and the way that Rinaldi smirked at me. James's could certainly have an edge to it, but typically it was a look of satisfaction or amusement. Rinaldi's was just plain malicious and hateful.

"Sorry about that," I muttered once they were gone. "She can work her way under my skin like no one else."

"You shouldn't let her," Jonathan said. "She's just insecure. She knows that you're a fantastic Quidditch player and she knows you have an excellent team. Why else would she feel as though she has to pick at you and tear you down?"

Lyra Rinaldi, insecure? He had to be joking. That girl was arrogant and prideful beyond comprehension. She thought that she was better than everyone else and she took pains to let everyone else know it.

"She's just a bully," I said, finally taking a bite of my lunch. It was a good job that my food hadn't gone cold or I'd have been even more cross with Rinaldi.

"That's why bullies act as they do," Jonathan said as he worked at his own lunch. "They tear others down to make themselves feel important or to give themselves confidence."

I shrugged. I was going to have to disagree with him on this one. Lyra Rinaldi just liked trying to push people around and enjoyed being spiteful and that was that.

"Fancy seeing you two here."

Oh, Fred Weasley, what would I do without you? Be left in peace, I can only imagine.

"Hullo," I said. "Jonathan, this is Fred and James. They're in Gryffindor in our year."

"Nice to meet you, gentlemen," Jonathan told them.

James raised a quizzical eyebrow as he regarded Jonathan. He appeared to be doing that thing where for some pointless reason blokes size up other blokes. With three brothers, I was no stranger to that look.

"Gentlemen?" Fred scoffed in amusement. "James is no gentleman."

"You wound me," James said, feigning hurt. "And just what do you think you are?"

"True enough, I'm not. Normally I would say that Christopher's the resident gentleman, only today he's ditched us for Savitri."

"So, is this a date?" James suddenly asked with extreme bluntness.

That's it. Once I'm done at Hogwarts, I'm finding a new social circle that doesn't involve this many incredibly nosy people.

"I thought we were going to go about this more tactfully," Fred complained with a look of slight annoyance.

James threw me a smirk. "We're mates, yeah? We're allowed to be curious."

Mates? I've never thought of Fred and James as mates. What a bizarre concept.

"Yes," Jonathan explained politely. "This is a date."

"And if you two prats wouldn't mind, we would like to finish our lunch," I told them, gesturing to my plate of half-eaten food.

"Prats? Us?" Fred asked in a tone of mock hurt, placing a hand dramatically to his chest.

"Never," James agreed, laughing. "Doesn't describe us at all."

I couldn't help but smile at the antics of those two.

"Let's go, James," Fred said with a smirk of his own. "We're bothering these two _on their date_."

"See you later, Eva," James told me, casting a strange, appraising glance between me and Jonathan. He didn't bother to say anything to Jonathan as he and Fred strode away to find a table.

Jonathan and I spent the remainder of out afternoon wandering around Hogsmeade poking in and out of shops and chatting about our interests, lessons, and friends. Around mid afternoon, we decided to head back up to the castle.

"Hufflepuff common room is this way," he jerked his thumb in the opposite direction from Gryffindor Tower. "Unless you want me to walk you to your common room."

Walk me back to my common room? What was this, some cheesy romance novel?

"I think I can find my way back," I replied. "But I had a nice time."

"Thanks, I had a really nice time as well," Jonathan told me. "I'll see you in Herbology."

"Bye."

I was sort of relieved that Jonathan wasn't a first date kiss kind of bloke, because I wasn't a first date kiss kind of girl. I wanted to be certain that I really did fancy this guy before I went and allowed him to kiss me.

I had been kissed once before, last Christmas by Al Potter. He had caught me under the mistletoe in front of the portrait hole one Saturday evening in front of the entire common room. The kiss itself had only lasted about five seconds, but it still counted. Afterwards we had laughed about it considering that we didn't fancy each other in the least. Neither Tristan nor James thought it was very funny and threw a fit, but I told them to bugger off.

As I walked back to the tower, I thought about my afternoon with Jonathan. After my initial onslaught of butterflies, I hadn't felt nervous at all around him. He was easy to talk to even if he did come across a bit formal sometimes. He was also quite clever and reasonably funny.

There was however, the whole matter of his not liking Quidditch at all. But still, despite that I had enjoyed myself. And I didn't even freeze to death in my skirt.

"I can't believe you're cheating on James!" Sorcha wailed the instant I opened the door to the dormitory.

In response, I shut the door in her face and walked back down the stairs.

"How was your date?" Fred Weasley asked me cheekily as I reentered the common room.

"Oh shut up, Fred," I muttered, sinking onto the sofa next to his chair. "It was nice," I admitted with a small smile. Then deciding to quickly change the topic, I added, "Where's your partner I crime?"

"James? He went for a stress relieving fly. So, you like that Hufflepuff, huh?"

"Maybe. How was your day? Did I see you with a girl from Ravenclaw or was that someone else?"

"What's his name again?" Fred asked, unwilling to allow the conversation to be steered elsewhere.

I frowned. What was this, twenty questions? "I don't think any of this is really your business. I've told you too much already."

Fred turned and scanned the common room. "Oy! Albus Severus! What's the name of the Head Boy?"

"Jonathan Grant," Al called across the room.

Note to self: Strangle Al Potter later. Actually, I could never do that. Al is far too nice.

Modified note to self: Strangle Fred Weasley. That sounds about right. Obviously he is a corrupting influence.

"Why do you always call him Albus Severus?" I asked, voicing a question I'd long wondered.

Fred grinned. "Because it's the wonkiest name I have ever heard. Dunno what Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny were thinking."

"I happen to think Albus Severus is an interesting name. Much more original than say…Fred. Or James."

"James's middle name is Sirius," Fred stated. "That's a cool middle name."

"I like Al's name better," I said, mostly to be contrary. After all, Sirius _was_ pretty cool name. "And I like Al better as a person too."

Fred laughed loudly. "After Al now? You've already got two boyfriends, do you really think you need a third? What will your brothers think of _that_?"

"Stuff it Frederick George," I told him, laughing.

"How do you know my middle name?"

"It's not as though I live with your sister or anything."

"Oh, yeah," he scrunched up his face as he remembered. "Well, you stuff it, Eva…Louise?"

"Louise?" I wrinkled my nose. "Hardly. And I'll have you know that my name has been called pretty."

Okay, it was by James, but it still counts for the sake of argument, yeah?

"Catherine?" he tried, but I shook my head. "Elizabeth? Marie? Abigail? Josephine?"

Josephine? Really, now.

"Not even close," I laughed at him.

"Oy! Albus Severus!" Fred called again. "What's Eva's middle name?"

"Rebecca," Al called back.

"Ha," Fred crowed triumphantly. "Stuff it, Eva Rebecca!"

I barely had time to wonder how Al knew my middle name because at that moment, I saw Richard and Gareth walk in through the portrait hole accompanied by a couple of their fellow fifth year students. I leapt from my seat and accosted them before they could make it to their dormitory.

"What were you two doing harassing Jonathan about his intentions?"I asked, arms folded, foot tapping impatiently on the carpeted floor as I waited for an answer.

"But Eva," Gareth protested, "it's our job as your brothers. We have to look out for you."

"I can look out for myself, thanks," I rolled my eyes. I pointed a finger at Richard. "And you – I even talked with you about specifically this kind of crap. I am two years older than the pair of you and I am perfectly capable of handling myself. I do carry a wand, and if I need to, I'm sure I can just use my fists."

"Not likely to come in handy with Jonathan," Gareth scoffed. "He's a _Hufflepuff_."

"What does that have to do with anything?" I narrowed my eyes. "He's still the top of my year and more than capable of taking you out with his wand."

Okay, I don't really know anything about Jonathan's dueling skills, but considering he's the brightest bloke in the year, I suspect he's _at least_ decent.

"Did you know that he _doesn't like Quidditch_?" Richard asked, completely ignoring my threatening tone.

"I know, he told me," I replied calmly. "He prefers cricket."

Gareth and Richard both pulled faces of extreme disgust. I couldn't really blame them considering that I felt exactly the same way.

"I'd rather be dead, wouldn't you?" Richard asked Gareth as they walked around me and up the boys' staircase.

"Stop being nosy parkers and keep out of my personal life!" I called after them, earning myself a few interested glances from the other Gryffindors in the common room.

"I mean it!" I added for good measure.

Sighing and running a hand tiredly through my windblown hair, I flopped back down on the sofa. Fred had wandered off somewhere, so I was all alone for the moment.

I closed my eyes, once again thinking back to that afternoon and my date with Jonathan.

Someone dropped heavily on to the cushion next to me making the sofa bounce on its springs.

I opened my eyes to see Zara sitting to my left and Bree sitting on the edge of the low coffee table in front of me.

"So you're reall_y_ _not_ going steady with James, then?" Zara asked out right. She never did bother with pretense.

"No," I shook my head. Finally, they understand. Too bad it took going on a date with another bloke to accomplish this rather than them believing the words coming from my own mouth.

"And you're not snogging him?"

"Why would she be snogging James is she was going out with Jonathan Grant?" Bree asked Zara.

Zara gave a quick shrug. "S'not my business what she does."

"No, I'm not snogging James on the side," I replied. "And it was just one date with Jonathan."

"For now," Bree giggled and grinned widely. "He's rather nice looking, in a proper, academic bloke sort of way, isn't he?"

"James is much fitter and a generally better looking bloke," Zara said, continuing her streak of championing James.

"Do you have a crush on James?" I asked, for once remembering to keep my voice low. "Is that what this has all been about?"

Zara laughed so long at this statement that I started to wonder if she was all right. "Me…having a crush on James Potter," she gasped for air as she wiped a tear away from her eye. "That's a laugh. James and I…just, no. I wouldn't be willing to be seen with him in that Canon's sweatshirt. _You_ and James, on the other hand…"

"Stop," I said, holding up a firm hand. "Just…stop. I am sick to death of hearing about how everyone thinks I should be dating James Potter. Well, I don't want to date him. He doesn't want to date me. A relationship between us would be a train wreck. So please _just leave it alone_."

Standing up, I marched over to the girls' staircase, up the stairs and shut the door firmly behind me.

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**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Next chapter:** Shirtless James, some uncomfortable thoughts, and a really big argument. Ha ha, how curious are you now? ;)


	12. So Very, Very Wrong

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_Chapter Twelve: So Very, Very Wrong_

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A/N: Something I stupidly never thought to clarify - Eva's name is pronounced Eh-vah (like the name Ava). I just prefer that pronunciation over ee-vah. See my author profile for some other name pronunciations and story information.

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The next afternoon found me working on homework in the library with Christine and Kieran sitting across from me.

As I looked up to stretch my neck, I saw Jonathan enter the library. He had his rucksack slung over one shoulder so that the strap crossed his chest and the bag hung at his other side. He was on his own and his eyes scanned the room searching for a place to sit and study.

As I raised and waved my hand slightly to catch his eye, I thought of my conversation with Christine that had taken place last night after she has returned from her afternoon in Hogsmeade with Kieran.

"_So…" Christine asked with a small grin as she sat down on the end of my bed. "How was your date with Jonathan?"_

"_It was nice," I replied honestly, folding my legs under me. "I had a good time with him."_

_Christine looked thoughtful at my words. "I can't help but feel as though there's something else you're not saying."_

_Darn my best friend for knowing me so well. _

"_He doesn't like Quidditch. At all!" I admitted morosely as I picked fretfully at a loose thread on my duvet._

_Hours later, I was still having trouble wrapping my head around that concept. It was practically heresy if you asked me. _

"_You like me and I'm not a Quidditch fanatic," Christine tried to reason. _

"_But you don't mind watching matches, and you don't think it's pointless," I argued. "He doesn't like it at all. He thinks it's complicated and violent."_

"_Well, it is." _

"_That's part of the game!"_

"_Look," Christine said, being all rational, "Considering that I'm Head Girl and Jonathan is Head Boy and we were both Prefects for two years, I know him quite well. He's a nice bloke and just because he may not happen to like Quidditch doesn't mean that he doesn't also have other very good qualities."_

_I remained silent and Christine continued. "He has a lot of interests. Weren't you the one saying that you wanted a hobby that didn't involve Quidditch?"_

_Um, no. Why would I ever say something as daft as that?_

"_I don't remember that at all."_

_Christine flapped her hand in a dismissive gesture. "It was last term. I just think that maybe it would be good for you to explore some other interests or hobbies. And I think you should give Jonathan a fair chance. You said you had a good time with him, right?"_

"_What makes you think he's going to want to go out again?"_

_Christine grinned sheepishly. Clearly, she knew something that I didn't. "He asked about you when we were doing rounds."_

_I must have looked thunderstruck, because Christine reached out and placed a hand gently on my arm. "It was obvious that he fancied you a bit and he was just…curious. I'd say that considering he asked you and you seem to have had a good time, he probably wants to go out again."_

"_Well, he didn't say anything about a second date, but he did say that he had a really nice time."_

"_That's a positive sign."_

Now Jonathan was making his way over to our table. I was going to give this a shot and see if maybe there could be something between us.

Christine sent me a knowing smirk and lightly nudged Kieran with her elbow. Looking over his shoulder under the pretense of stretching, he saw Jonathan and gave me a nod of encouragement.

"Good job, you," he whispered with a grin right before Jonathan approached.

"Hi, Jonathan," I greeted him with a smile as I lightly kicked Kieran underneath the table. He deserved it. "Want to join us?"

"I would, thanks," he said, taking off his rucksack and pulling out the books he needed for studying. He pulled out the vacant chair next to me and sat down.

"Hi, Jonathan," Christine and Kieran said at the same time.

"Do they do that a lot?" Jonathan asked me with a curious glance at the couple across from us.

"Not a lot," I clarified, "but enough. What schoolwork do you have?"

"Transfiguration reading and that Herbology essay," he replied, arranging his books, parchment, and quills neatly on the table.

I smiled. "Brilliant. Will you read over my Herbology essay for me and make certain that it isn't a complete load of rubbish?"

"It's probably fine, but I'll take a glance at it if you like," he answered easily.

Jonathan is so polite. Unlike _some_ people I know.

He took out his own essay, which looked much longer than mine. What did he mean that he wasn't finished? I would happily turn in that essay. It was at least a foot longer than mine!

"It looks done to me," I commented, still eyeing the parchment he held.

He frowned slightly. "It needs some editing. I think I should rework my introductory and concluding paragraphs."

"I've always wondered," Kieran said, speaking up. "What's the Hufflepuff common room look like?"

"It's underground, but not unpleasant and dirty. It's more like a warm burrow. It has comfy armchairs, a warm fire, lots of gold and black decorations. Oh, and we have the Hufflepuff Roll of Honour on the wall. It's a plaque with the names of former Hufflepuffs who accomplished admirable things in their personal or professional lives. You can come see the common room for yourself sometime, if you like."

"Don't you have a password?" Christine asked, obviously confused by this statement. I couldn't blame her; I was too.

"Yes," Jonathan replied, nonchalantly, "but it never changes. We don't put much store in keeping others out."

"But aren't you worried about security?" I asked, stunned by the idea of just anyone being able to waltz right in to their common room and dormitories.

"Not particularly. Those who want to come and visit friends or family come in, and everyone else, well, doesn't care to. I personally don't find much value in automatically assuming the worst of people."

Clearly he didn't remember our run in with Lyra yesterday and he'd never been on James's bad side.

Kieran seemed to consider this. "I suppose technically, anyone can enter the Ravenclaw common room if they can answer the doorknocker's riddle."

"It's the same principle," Jonathan explained. "Anyone who wants to enter is able to if they have the right tools."

I shook my head. "I just can't imagine anyone but Gryffindors just wandering right into our common room. I mean…it's _ours._ I'd never have a good night's sleep if Lyra Rinaldi could find where I slept," I said, only half joking.

But Jonathan merely shrugged this off. "As I said, I don't like to automatically assume the worst of people."

"James Potter knows where you sleep and you don't seem to have a problem with that," Kieran stated, then paused. "Um…that sounded really bad, but that's not the way that I meant it."

He stole a worried glance at Jonathan, but Jonathan didn't seem to have noticed that Kieran had completely bungled what he was attempting to say.

"I'm not afraid of James," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "I lived through him and Fred pulling all sorts of pranks on me when we were younger. He likes a laugh, but he's not malicious about his pranks. That's the difference. The worst he's ever done is stolen my shampoo and replaced it with some hair coloring solution. Black is not my color."

"_James_?" Christine asked, brow furrowed. "Since when do _you_ call him James?"

I felt my face flood with color. "Oh, well… After the loss to Slytherin and everything that happened between us – how he apologized you know? – he suggested that we call each other by our first names. You know, mostly because since Lily Potter is on the team now and it can be a bit confusing, you know, with two Potters."

Well, that was that was lovely having to recall all of that. That entire situation had just been rather awkward. I mean, James Potter had held me while I sobbed in his arms. Talk about embarrassing. Telling Christine, my best mate, had been one thing…but telling Jonathan?

Ugh.

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Seventh year N.E.W.T. level coursework was turning out to be just as difficult as everyone had always told me. Tuesday evening, I worked on an essay for Charms until long after midnight. Once I realized that I had been staring blankly at the roll of parchment for five minutes without writing a single word, I decided that it was time to go to bed.

For some strange reason, I woke up earlier than I normally did on mornings that I had scheduled Quidditch practice. Deciding that instead of just laying in bed, I might as well go for a fly before practice, I dragged myself out of my four-poster, pulled on some practice clothes, and made my way to the pitch.

As I pushed open the door to the Gryffindor locker rooms, the first thing I noticed was that James was seated on one of the benches, his back to the door. The second thing I noticed (_very _shortly after the first), was that he was also very shirtless and was sitting there in only a pair of work out trousers.

Oh, Holy Hippogriffs…. James Potter is one _fit bloke_. I mean, it's not as though he had bulging muscles or something – that's not my thing. But he was…nicely toned and still a bit tanned from the summer. And I was just looking at his back. I hadn't even laid eyes on his abs yet.

"Morning," I said, trying to act as though this was a normal situation even though it definitely wasn't as I was having some trouble thinking in a coherent fashion.

James whipped around on the bench at the sound of my voice. Was it my imagination or did he look slightly embarrassed?

I think my brain just melted a bit. He looked even better shirtless from the front. Oh my Merlin, those abs and nicely defined arms. With James sitting there looking so _attractive_, what was I supposed to do? Not notice or something? Bloody unlikely.

"Uh, what are you doing here this early?" he asked, clearly surprised to see me.

"Uh, couldn't sleep, so um, I came down here to uh, fly around before er, practice," I answered, in what I hoped was a (mostly) coherent manner. My feet moved without my permission and suddenly I was standing next to him.

"Sounds reasonable," he shrugged with a small, satisfied smirk as he took in my beet red face. It was then that I noticed that the reason he had taken his shirt off was that he had somehow injured his shoulder. A decent amount of skin had been scraped away, and there was blood around three long cuts.

"Ran into the stands trying out a new move. It's not very bad," he commented, flexing his right shoulder slightly.

"Here, let me look at it," I offered, my brain finally able to focus now that I had something Quidditch-related to zone in on. "I can't have one of my team members injured or not capable of playing their best."

As I reached out and gently prodded the ripped skin, my head close to his shoulder as I leaned down, I saw that his ears were an astonishingly bright pink color.

Thankfully, the cuts were shallow ones and it seemed that they had stopped bleeding. That would make my work much easier. If it had been any worse, I wouldn't have been able to do much except order him to go and see Madam Pomfrey. Not that he would have listened to me.

"I can do basic healing," I told him, pulling out my wand. "Episky," I muttered and waved my wand at his shoulder while hoping that this particular spell was powerful enough for his injury. Luckily it was, and the skin knitted itself together. "Terego," I added, to siphon the blood away.

"We use a lot of healing spells at my house," I explained with a small smile as I put my wand away.

He flexed his shoulder and stretched it a bit, and as he did so, I noticed for the first time that there on his right shoulder blade was a tattoo of a Golden Snitch. The skin around and underneath it was still a little bit pink and swollen.

"I had it done during the last Hogsmeade trip," he explained, as though he had read my mind. "It's to remind me of why I play the game. Why I'm a Seeker."

"All the attention on you once the Snitch is sighted," I said with a teasing smile.

"That's not it at all," he stood up, voice nonchalant.

I looked over at him, both surprised and confused by his answer. "Then why?"

"I play the game because I love it. I can't imagine Quidditch not being a part of my life."

"And why you're a Seeker?"

The look he gave me was a combination of a smile and a smirk. "Maybe I'll tell you someday."

I had always assumed that James must have chosen to be a Seeker because of the attention that was focused on that particular position.

Picking up his shirt from where it was resting on the bench, he slipped it over his head and pulled it on. How unfortunate.

"Thanks," he told me.

"No problem."

Grabbing my broom from my locker, I strode to the door and headed outside. Once in the air my mind seemed to clear from the cold wind whipping around me. My hormones caught up with my mind in a sudden and slightly frightening rush and I nearly tipped sideways off of my broom.

What in the bleeding, flipping hell was I _thinking_? Well, clearly I _wasn't _thinking, that was the problem.

This was James Potter I had been thinking those absurd thoughts about! I'd seen him shirtless before a few times – this was nothing new - so what was wrong with me? I had practically been…ugh, no, I didn't want to say it, not even in my own mind.

This was so wrong. So very, very wrong.

What would Christine say? What would Kieran say? What would Jonathan say?

Jonathan! Holy Hippogriffs!

_Think of Jonathan, _I told myself sternly._ Remember him, that bloke who asked you to Hogsmeade and that mostly likely fancies you? And he's rather fanciable in return, so stop thinking about the shirtless sight of that most-of-the-time prat James Potter._

Ugh. I should have stayed in bed and gotten the extra sleep because I was clearly going out of my mind. Perhaps after I mailed my letter to my parents, I would visit the Hospital Wing and ask for a Pepper-Up potion.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"I suppose you're going to sit with Kieran and the Ravenclaws today?" I asked Christine as I pulled on my cloak and my Gryffindor scarf.

Hufflepuff was playing Ravenclaw today, and as Gryffindor captain, I needed to be there to observe how the other teams played and to take down notes about how our team should prepare for playing Hufflepuff after the Christmas holidays.

"Yeah," Christine nodded. "Are you sitting with the Hufflepuffs?"

I shook my head, very confused by my friend's question. "Why would I be? I'm going to sit in the Gryffindor stands with my team so that we can observe our competition."

The Gryffindor team. James. Ugh.

Practice on Wednesday (and Friday) had been awkward. For me, anyway. I couldn't look at James without envisioning him shirtless. Needless to say, I was a little more than disturbed by the imaginings of my apparently completely mad mind.

After all of that, a visit to the Hospital Wing had been a necessity.

I rummaged through my bedside cabinet for my Competition Information Notebook. Ah, there it was, right behind that bag of chocolate frogs. I ran a hand over the well-worn cover. This book had served me well in the past. I carefully dropped it into the front pocket of my winter cloak.

After breakfast, Christine met up with Kieran in the Entrance Hall and the two strolled off together hand in hand as they walked with Kieran's friends from Ravenclaw.

"Hey," Zara said, approaching me. Bree was walking with her and attempting to tie her scarf at the same time.

"Hello," I said somewhat stiffly, still feeling a little cool towards her after the incident in the common room last Saturday. We hadn't spoken to each other since, not even at Quidditch practice.

"Aw, really, Eva, are you still not going to speak to me?" Zara complained morosely, giving me a sad look.

"That depends," I replied evenly. "Are you going to continue to harass me about James?"

"Look, Eva," she said with a heavy sigh. "I really thought that there was something between you, this…spark. I thought that you were _at least_ attracted to him."

Suddenly in my mind I was back in the locker rooms and James was standing there shirtless right in front of me.

No! Why did these ridiculous images keep cropping into my head? It just wasn't healthy. This was James Potter, for Merlin's sake!

"But if you're not," Zara was saying, "I'll stop. I didn't think that you'd mind so much. I was just teasing – it's what I do."

"Thanks," I told her sincerely. "I'd appreciate that."

"So, what's this about you and the Head Boy?" Bree asked nosily as we walked among the mass of students also heading for the Quidditch pitch.

"Yeah, what's going on with you two?" Lily asked as she appeared practically out of thin air.

Sorry, but why is it that suddenly everyone on the Gryffindor team is so interested in my love life?

"We went to Hogsmeade once and we've studied together a few times," I said wearily. "That's all so far."

"So far?" Nico questioned as he fell into step next to Lily.

"We'll see," I gave in and answered. "He's a nice bloke and I think that I could maybe fancy him. So _we'll see_."

Once we were outside, I glanced at the sky and saw that the conditions were cloudy with a hint of fog in the air and the wind was blowing gently. Not the best conditions for a match, but certainly not the worst. I had played in the rain and the snow before. Now those were difficult conditions.

As our small group arrived in the Gryffindor stands, we found that James, Al, and Fred were already there and had saved the rest of us the first two rows of that particular stand.

I noticed that James was carrying a notebook as well so that he could make notes about the other teams, and to make notes of the other players' forms in regards to his own and generally to help himself better prepare.

I would be upset that he was doing so when he wasn't the captain, but both of us had always taken notes long before this year. It had been another source of competition – who could notice the most things about the other team, or be the first point out flaws or good traits.

"So, who are we cheering for?" Gareth called as he and Richard appeared at the top of the stairs and walked over to take seats by Al.

"Ravenclaw," Bree said matter-of-factly. "They're brill at strategy."

"Hufflepuff has improved a lot in recent years," Nico threw in his two cents. "They're not very competitive, but they're so hard working."

"I'll bet that Eva's supporting Hufflepuff," Zara joked loudly with a wink in my direction. "Seeing as she fancies one."

Oh, Merlin, that girl does not know when to stop. I think I've got one thing under control with her, and then another pops up. Perhaps I should work her harder at practice so she's too tired to hassle me.

The match was underway when I decided that maybe it was time to find out how James's notes were going. I had accumulated quite a decent number myself.

"Noticed anything interesting?" I asked as I slipped onto the bench next to him. I pulled my scarf tighter; it was terribly cold out here.

"Maybe," he replied evasively but with a small smirk. "Dobson doesn't fly to the left as much anymore."

I nodded. "So I see. That's too bad for us Chasers. That was dead useful that he couldn't fly straight."

"Notice anything in particular about Jones?" he asked in return, as he hurriedly scribbled something in his notebook.

"I don't think his injury from last season has healed the way it should have."

"He's not throwing from his shoulder properly," James agreed as he watched the Ravenclaw Chaser fly close by the stands in which we were sitting.

We watched the match in anxious silence for a minute, and then James said suddenly, "Are you actually going out with Jonathan Grant?"

"Not you too," I groaned in extreme exasperation. I resisted from smacking myself (or James) in the face with my notebook. "Why is it that this year everyone is so bleeding interested in my love life?"

There was an unreadable expression on James's face as he said, "So, you are going out with him, then?"

"Not right now, but maybe. Not that it's _any _of your business," I told him firmly. What a bleeding nosy sod.

"Eva, he's all wrong for you."

And who, exactly, is James Potter to decide who is or is not right for me?

"Stop acting like you're my brother or something. I get enough of that from my actual brothers. You don't have a say in who I date, James."

"He doesn't even like Quidditch, did you know that?" he shot at me, eyes hard.

"How do _you_ know that?"

"I make it my business to know about these things."

"What, you keep a diary of every single person at Hogwarts and their level of interest and involvement in Quidditch?" I asked sarcastically, my hands clutching my notebook tightly.

"You couldn't be with someone who didn't even _like_ Quidditch," James told me firmly.

"What would you know about it?" I challenged, staring up into his angry face. I was incredibly tired of people sticking their noses into my personal life and assuming things that they shouldn't.

"You're not in my mind," I continued angrily. "You don't know what I'm thinking – maybe I _like_ that he has other interests. Maybe I _like_ him because he's nothing like _you_."

In reaction, James physically flinched and his jaw tensed in the way it did when he was cross and looking for a row.

"Right," he practically choked the word out, swallowing with some difficulty. "Right." He turned away from me and quickly scrambled up from the bench and went to sit with Lily, Fred, and Roxanne, who were sitting in the far left corner of the Gryffindor stands.

I was left sitting there wondering what in the bleeding hell had just happened. I had insulted James loads of times before some of those insults hadn't been terribly pleasant.

So why had this one apparently cut so deeply?

Ugh, I was not nearly observant enough to be able to effectively deal with other people and their ridiculous emotions. Why couldn't everything be as obvious as Quidditch?

"_That_ did not go well," Al said, clambering over a couple of benches to come and sit next to me.

"You don't have to tell me that," I groaned in frustration. I had fully expected for James to throw some sort of stinging insult back in my face. He had been wearing his 'I want to row with you' face, but he had barely said anything. Just one word.

"Something's wrong here, Al, but I haven't a clue what it is," I said, rubbing my eyes wearily. Oh lovely, I've probably just smudged my mascara.

"Your life _would_ be loads easier if you were more observant," Al agreed, nudging me gently with his shoulder in a friendly sort of manner.

"I mean, what is _wrong _with him?" I ground out in frustration.

I glanced over across the stands at James. He was looking uncharacteristically sullen while Lily was talking to him in an animated manner, gesturing wildly with her hands.

"In which way?" Al joked with a smile.

"I'm serious, Al!" I cried. "Last year, I knew where I stood him. Now he's so hot and cold I don't know what to think about him half the time - besides the fact that he's a confusing prat!"

"He has his reasons."

Seriously, Al, what kind of a stupid answer was that?

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

The next morning before breakfast I sent Waffle off with a letter for my older brother.

_Dear Tristan,_

_I honestly think that I'm going mad. I can't wait to see you over Christmas holidays! _

_Much love,_

_Eva_

_P.S. You owe me a few letters._

_P.P.S. Ravenclaw beat Hufflepuff, so we know what we're up against for the next match._

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

So, some progress and some regression. Did you enjoy shirtless James? Eva did! :) But she's not going to be admitting that for quite a while.

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Next chapter:** Eva accidently overhears a conversation not meant for her ears and she and Jonathan have a talk.


	13. Oblivious

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter Thirteen: Oblivious**_

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"Good afternoon, Eva Louise," Fred welcomed me with a grin as he took his seat in Arithmancy.

James raised an eyebrow curiously at Fred. "You do know that's not her middle name, yeah?"

"I know," Fred replied, without a care. "I just like calling her that because it annoys her."

"Wait," I said, my mind catching up with the conversation. "James – how do you know what my middle name is?"

"Your brothers," was his short and uncomplicated reply. He didn't even look at me as he said it.

"Traitors, the lot of them" I said in mock anger, but this failed to illicit a response from James, who was suddenly very busy sharpening one of his quills.

I knew that I often didn't notice things, but was it my imagination or was James Potter doing his best not to talk to me? I was his Quidditch captain – he couldn't ignore me. Only we weren't on the pitch and weren't discussing Quidditch, so he had every right to ignore me. Well, there went that logic.

Our row had been a couple days ago. I thought he would have been over it considering that he was usually strangely good at pretending that we hadn't rowed. Was he still cross with me over what I had said? What I said to him was certainly awful, but what about what he had said to me back of the beginning of term – that hadn't exactly been pleasant. Had I really hurt his feelings so badly?

For some reason that I couldn't comprehend, it bothered me that he apparently wasn't speaking to me. And being bothered that James was ignoring me almost bothered me more than James ignoring me. Now that was just ridiculous.

Christmas holiday couldn't arrive soon enough. Just a few more weeks and I could get away from all of this madness for a while.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Walking into the common room a week and a half later, a very interesting sight greeted me. Sitting around the fireplace were Al, Lily, Fred, Roxanne, Rose, and Rose's younger brother Hugo. James was the only member of the Gryffindor Potter/Weasley family not present at the gathering.

What really made the scene interesting was that Richard and Gareth were sitting with them and they were all deep in discussion.

"Well, we have to do _something_!" I heard Gareth protest. "I'm not going to sit around and let this happen."

"Maybe he just needs to tell her outright," Al suggested. "But knowing him, he'll probably muck it up and say something insulting."

"Or she'd laugh in his face," Lily said, rubbing her eyes wearily.

"That all sounds an awful lot like what you already described, and that was apparently a disaster," said Rose.

Well that was strange. I shook my head, not even bothering to be curious about what I'd just heard. In any case, I had some schoolwork in the dormitory to work on.

I had just drawn the scarlet hangings to my four-poster and settled in with my assigned Transfiguration reading when the door to the dormitory flew open and banged against the wall.

"You _knew_! _Both of you knew_!" Gemma's voice penetrated my bed hangings. She had that same hysterical tone in her voice as when she accidentally lit something on fire. Not a good sign.

I looked around for my wand so that I could cast a silencing charm around my bed and not have to listen in on this row or highly personal conversation that was occurring. To my horror, I realized that I had set my wand on my bedside cabinet before I had drawn my hangings.

"Of course I knew," Sorcha replied, sounding weary.

There was a loud, pathetic sniff and then Gemma said, "I thought maybe if he saw how I felt… he'd realize that she's never going to fancy him back and that he should at least ask me to Hogsmeade or something."

"Who says that she doesn't fancy him?"

Moving my hangings ever-so-slightly with my left hand, I peered out, attempting to catch a glimpse of my wand.

Oh, Holy Hippogriffs. Of all of the bad luck. I would have to stick my entire arm out of the hangings in order to reach my wand, not something I was willing to do. I was a Gryffindor and no coward, but to admit that I'd been sitting here in my four-poster listening would be a tad more than embarrassing. I would just have to wait out their argument and try to ignore them.

Easier said than done.

Gemma laughed harshly. "She doesn't care about him at all and he _knows it_! But maybe after what Roxanne said – about what she said to him – he'll finally get it through his head."

"He's dead set on her, Gemma. He's fancied her for ages and I don't see that changing. And you never know – I think that they'll be with the right person in the end."

"What is _wrong_ with all of you?" Gemma cried.

Good luck with finding an answer to that. I'd been asking that question for ages now and I still hadn't figured it out.

"You're supposed to be my _friends_," Gemma continued on angrily. "but the both of you know how I feel about James and don't care at all!"

James? Gemma fancied _Jame_s? Huh.

Well, I suppose that did make some sense. Gemma was the one who had first approached me about that daft rumor going around that I was going out with James. Come to think of it, she had been treating me rather coolly since that day that the rumor started circulating. It was probably terrible of me that I had barely noticed. In my defense, we were really just casual friends of convenience because we shared a dormitory.

"Okay, you know what?" Sorcha said, sounding uncharacteristically harsh. "Even if he didn't fancy someone else, he wouldn't fancy you, because you would only pretend to like Quidditch."

There was an angry strangled yell/sob and then the door to the loo slammed shut. From behind the closed door, I could hear Gemma crying. Now I was really glad that they didn't know I was here.

"Gemma, I'm sorry," Sorcha said, softly knocking on the door.

"_Go away_!" Gemma yelled through the wood.

There was some rustling around that sounded like Sorcha was putting some books in her rucksack, then the sounds of her leaving the dormitory.

Well, that was exciting. Or something. The things you can learn in ten minutes, eh? Gemma fancied James, who apparently either didn't know or couldn't care less. And James fancied someone else and had for a while now.

The idea of James fancying some girl was just…strange. I tried to think back to the last time I remembered him having a girlfriend. I thought that last term I had seen him around with some blond haired girl in the year below us, but since then, I couldn't think of anyone else.

And how in the world did both Sorcha and Gemma know about it? Roxanne was his cousin – her knowing because of Fred was understandable, but I highly doubted that James was going around telling Sorcha and Gemma all about his personal life.

James…we had barely spoken to each other since the last match. In lessons and at Quidditch practice, he barely acknowledged me. It was strange. Last term I would have loved for him to leave me alone, but now that he had, it didn't seem right. It felt as though there was something missing in my life.

I heard the dormitory door open again, and my curtains were pulled open slowly and Christine's cheerful face appeared.

"What are you doing with your curtains closed?" she asked curiously, peering at me in the darkness.

Oh, I hadn't thought to turn on the reading lamp over my bed. I had been sitting there in the dark contemplating James's love life. Sweet Merlin.

This was ridiculous, why was I spending so much time thinking about James Potter? I should have been thinking about Jonathan.

"Just resting my eyes before I start this Transfiguration reading," I said, holding up my book as evidence.

Christine nodded then said, "I have rounds tonight with Jonathan. What's going on with you two?"

I had been wondering the same thing myself, actually.

Jonathan and I had been spending a lot of time studying together along with Christine and Kieran in the week and half or so since our date. It was nice that he got on so well with my friends and we all seemed to enjoy each other's company.

"I don't know," I replied honestly.

Did Jonathan ever intend to ask me on another date or ask me to going out with him? I wasn't much of a judge of people's intentions. I just couldn't tell if the fact that we were spending a decent amount of time together meant anything. How did this whole going out thing work, anyhow?

Perhaps I did want to go out with Jonathan and that's why I was thinking all of this. It was like what I had thought shortly after he asked me to go to Hogsmeade – the fact that I wanted to see if there was something between us had to mean something. I enjoyed his company and thought he was good looking and funny. Except for the whole not liking Quidditch issue, he was a really great guy and nothing like James Potter.

~…~…~…~…~…~…

"This class," I muttered sourly as I practically slammed _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ down onto the table in front of me. "is _so _boring."

"Don't tell me that you don't enjoy fungi?" Jonathan said with a smile, glancing up at me from across the table. We had been sitting in the library working on our Herbology essays for what felt like the last two years of my life. I didn't enjoy sitting still for long periods of time, I was too active for that. Kieran and Christine were sitting with us and were working on their own schoolwork for other lessons.

"I am simply enthralled by it," I deadpanned.

"Want to hear a joke about fungi?" Jonathan asked me.

I eyed him warily. "You're kidding, yeah?"

"Nope," he shook his head. "It might cheer you up."

"Oh, go on, then," I told him.

"So, this mushroom walks into a pub. The pub owner says, 'We don't serve your kind here.' And the mushroom replies, 'Why not? I'm a fun guy.'"

I stared blankly at Jonathan while Kieran burst out laughing and Christine giggled.

"Get it?" he asked me, his smile fading a bit. "Fun guy…fungi?"

And in spite of myself, I laughed. "That's awful," I told him and he laughed along with me.

"Eva, do you want to walk around the halls for a bit, stand up and stretch our legs?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes, please," I said immediately. "I've been sitting in this chair _forever._"

Christine winked at me, and I made a face back at her. What was all that about?

The corridors were chilly and I was glad that I was still wearing my robes. I pulled them tighter around me. Perhaps I should have brought along my Gryffindor scarf.

"So," he said casually as we strolled leisurely along. "We went to Hogsmeade together and we've been studying together in the evenings."

"I've been thinking about that," I admitted. "I mean…where do we stand?"

"Where do you want us to stand?" he replied, stopping and turning to face me.

I pulled a face even as I laughed. "Oh, you're one of _those people _that turns the question back on the other person and expects them to give an answer."

He looked a bit abashed. "I'm no Gryffindor. You have _no idea_ how nervous I felt just asking you to come for a walk."

"You never intended this to a walk to stretch our legs, did you?" I asked, suddenly catching on. Wow, talk about unobservant. I should win an award or something.

"No," he grinned sheepishly. "I didn't. You _really_ aren't very observant, are you?"

"Afraid not," I informed him. "I was being completely honest when I told you that."

He took a deep breath and bit his lip as though he was steeling himself to do something. "Then let me be honest with you… I like you and I'd like to regularize what we have."

I tried not to giggle as that would definitely make him feel badly, but really? _Regularize_?

"Are you trying to ask me if I'll be your girlfriend?" I couldn't help but ask curiously.

He blushed heavily and I thought that maybe I had been too blunt.

"I know that I'm a bit…well, formal," he stammered awkwardly.

"It makes you unique," I cut across him before he could apologize further. Poor bloke. "And I would like to regularize what we have as well."

He looked immeasurably relieved. "Brilliant. That's brilliant."

A bold look came over his face and he stepped towards me, leaning closer. Gently, he placed his left hand on my shoulder.

As he drew closer, I realized that he was going to kiss me. What was I supposed to do with my hands? I couldn't just stand there with my arms hanging at my sides. For a lack of better ideas, I decided that I could put a hand on his shoulder as well.

I closed my eyes just before his mouth pressed gently against mine. He had very soft, cool lips. It felt hesitant and a bit awkward, but I supposed that was normal for a first kiss. I was inexperienced enough that the sensation of kissing was still a bit strange. But at the same time, it was a nice feeling. Odd contradiction, that.

"Eva Louise!" a voice called out and I quickly broke away from Jonathan.

Oh, Holy Hippogriffs. Why _now_ of all times?

"Well, look at what we have here," Fred said rather gleefully.

"Hello to you too, Fred," I said sarcastically.

"I didn't know that students were allowed to snog in the corridors. If that's the case, then I think that the points I've lost Gryffindor in the past should be reinstated."

"It's not after curfew," Jonathan said, his face flushed an alarmingly bright shade of pink. "And I believe that the rules are about excessive public demonstrations of affection."

Fred considered this thoughtfully. "That's true, you can hardly call that peck excessive."

"Fred," I told him, looking him directly in the eyes. "Shut up and get lost or I _will _hex you."

"Ah, Eva, so charming," Fred winked, but he started to walk away all the same. "Wait until your brothers hear about this!" he called as he turned the corner.

"Your middle name is Louise?" Jonathan asked after Fred had left us alone.

I resisted the urge to seek out Fred Weasley and hex him. Sweet Merlin that boy was a menace.

"No, it's Rebecca," I rolled my eyes. "Fred just knows that I think that Louise would be a stupid middle name."

"I don't think Louise is so bad," Jonathan said. "It's my grandmother's name."

"Well it's fine for your grandmum, but not for my middle name," I protested, feeling my face grow a bit warm.

What a start, insulting his grandmother. Even if it was an accident.

After our essays were finished, Jonathan insisted on walking me back to Gryffindor Tower. At the portrait hole, we shared a chaste kiss that was interrupted as James came storming out and strode off down the hallway in an angry huff.

I should have known that Fred would be as good as his word. The moment I walked into the common room, there was a commotion and Richard and Gareth nearly bowled me over.

"What in the name of Merlin's beard are you doing snogging blokes in the corridors after dark?" Gareth demanded.

"Would you rather I did it by daylight?" I asked, trying not to laugh. I really am too clever sometimes.

"This is no time for your sarcasm," Richard informed me, looking steely eyed.

"I don't see how _any_ of this is your business!" I told my twin brothers. "This is my life, not yours. I wouldn't care if you were off snogging some girl – or some bloke, for that matter."

Okay, I would care if my younger brothers were off snogging anyone and I had to hear about it. But as long as they weren't off with someone new every week and I wasn't the one catching them at it, I didn't care. Much.

"You're our _sister_," Gareth said brown eyes looking extremely earnest.

"Okay," I said, steering them to an empty table in the far right corner of the room. "Sit," I instructed in my best Quidditch captain voice. "Look – I'm not just snogging Jonathan; I'm going out with him."

Both boys looked outraged and opened their mouths to speak, but I held up a hand and they reluctantly kept their comments to themselves. Gareth slumped down in his seat and Richard crossed his arms tightly.

"I like him, okay? I know he's not a Gryffindor and I know he doesn't like Quidditch, but…he's clever, and funny, and trustworthy, and dependable. I like that we don't argue and I like that he's a nice guy."

Richard and Gareth exchanged a strange look that I couldn't decipher.

"What does that look mean?" I asked, my voice laced with skepticism.

"Nothing."

"Of course it means something. I do notice _some _things."

Richard snorted in derision at this statement.

"I said _some_ things, not _everything_," I protested hotly, crossing my arms.

"Fine," Gareth said, running a hand wearily through his short brown hair, "we will stop openly working to sabotage you and that Hufflepuff."

Am I really related to these idiots?

"What is your problem with Jonathan?"

"He's all wrong for you, Eva," Richard said.

That was almost exactly what James had said to me at the Hufflepuff – Ravenclaw match. Holy Hippogriffs – did that mean….

"Have you been talking to James?" I asked, eyes narrowing as I regarded first Richard then Gareth.

"No," they said at the same time, refusing to look at my face as they answered.

"_What_ were you…no," I decided, standing up. "I don't even want to know. You two are not going to change my mind about Jonathan and you're not going to convince me that going out with James is somehow a good idea. So, please…I don't want to argue with you about this anymore."

I left my brothers sitting there and made my way to the seventh year girls' dormitory.

"Eva!" Sorcha cried happily when I opened the door.

Oh dear Merlin, not this again. Did she have some sort of Potions accident over the summer holidays? I don't remember her being this mental last term.

"You're dating Jonathan Grant! I had no idea! I thought you and James Potter were an item. Well, shows how much I know, huh?"

Too right it does.

I really should look into having her admitted to St. Mungo's.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Interesting conversations Eva overheard, huh? ****And she's now officially dating Jonathan. I know nearly everyone wants her dating James right this instant, but in relationships like James and Eva's, it's all about progression. Her relationship with James has evolved a lot since the beginning of the story, but it has a ways to go.  
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**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Next chapter:** Eva and James discuss some things over breakfast and there is an exciting (I hope!) Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.


	14. Gryffindor Takes on Hufflepuff

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter Fourteen: Gryffindor Takes on Hufflepuff**_

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Morning Quidditch practice was a very cold affair. The wind was blowing and it was snowing a bit. Not good conditions at all under normal circumstances, but I wanted my team to practice in all kinds of weather, so I was actually quite pleased about the snow.

Everyone dutifully trooped into the locker rooms on time and we spent the first half hour analyzing the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match.

"Okay, Chasers," I said. "The Hufflepuff Keeper, Dobson, has finally learned to fly straight, so Bree, no more easy feinting to the right. The three of us will work on that new upwards pass we started last week. Dobson isn't a great Keeper, but all the same, we need to fine tune some of our skills."

"What about their Chasers?" Richard asked.

"Good question. Aidan Campbell and Emily Watkins are good, but Natasha Martin is their best Chaser. She's the one you'll really want to watch out for."

"Yay!" Bree cheered for her older sister, for which she received a glare from everyone in the room.

"This isn't the time for family loyalty!" James protested vehemently. "This is _Quidditch_! We're playing Hufflepuff and we are going to beat them."

I couldn't help but agree wholeheartedly with that statement.

"Yeah," Nico said, swiping his fringe out of his eyes. "You're her sister - what are her weaknesses?"

"Absolutely not!" I cried, pointing my clipboard in Nico in a slightly threatening a manner. "We are Gryffindors and we're not going to win through less than chivalrous means. Let's leave that to the Slytherin team."

"Hear, hear!" Zara intoned heartily and James nodded firmly.

"I was joking," Nico protested, holding his hands up in front of him defensively.

"Moving on," I announced, "Hufflepuff's strongest point is their Beaters, so everyone watch out. Maybe we should all practice swerving maneuvers and barrel rolls. I know it's snowing," I told everyone, "but it would benefit us to practice in adverse conditions, so bundle up because we're going outside."

There was a lot of collective moaning and groaning, but they did as I said. Ah, the power of being the captain. How I loved it.

"James!" I called, wanting to talk to him about the conversation we had had about why he hadn't caught the snitch during the Slytherin match.

Either he didn't hear me or he ignored me because kept walking as though I had never spoken. I'd bet strongly on the latter rather than the former.

"What's his problem?" I asked Lily, voice filled with exasperation. "He's been mostly ignoring me for days now."

In response, she gave me a slightly cool look. "Eva, you practically told him you hated him. He's hurt. He has some pride, you know?"

She stalked away towards the rest of the team and I sighed. As I followed her onto the pitch, I tried to put James Potter and my guilty feelings out of my mind. Easier said than done.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Are you coming to the match on Saturday?" I asked Jonathan as the two of us sat in the library studying.

"I hadn't planned on it, why?" he asked, looking slightly confused.

_What? _Not come to the Quidditch match? Is he taking the mickey?

Somewhere behind us in the stacks, someone dropped what sounded like an extremely heavy book and Madam Pince rushed by our table, bustling off to investigate the source of the disturbance.

"Gryffindor is playing Hufflepuff," I explained, widening my eyes to try to hint that maybe, _just maybe_, this was important to me.

Comprehension dawned on his face and he quickly sought to apologize. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that you were playing. I assumed that Hufflepuff was playing because one of my dorm mates is on the team and he's been gone more often than usual, but I didn't know that Gryffindor was playing as well."

How does someone not know that a Quidditch match is coming up? Even if you didn't play, people were talking about it, and there were signs up in the common rooms, and…I mean, I was unobservant and I noticed! Well, I suppose I noticed because it was Quidditch. But still!

"I was hoping that you would come," I added.

"I suppose I could. One match wouldn't kill me," he smiled warmly at me. "My friends usually attend, so I can sit with them."

All I could think was, "one match?" He would make an exception and come to this _one match_? What about the others? We still had to play Ravenclaw, and of course I attended all of the other matches as well.

I smiled back at him. "That would be great."

"I meant to tell you earlier," Jonathan said, swallowing and turning a bit pink. "Um…I think your hair looks really pretty today."

Aw, how sweet of him. It was all rather flattering – having been asked out by such a nice, intelligent bloke.

"Oh, thanks," I blushed, tucking said hair behind my ears and smiling happily at him.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Thankfully, on Saturday morning I was in less of a stupor than I had been before the Slytherin match. No almost using other people's shampoo and no nearly walking into closed doors. Thank Merlin.

I was a little nervous, of course. That was natural. But mostly I felt the strong pull of determination. I was incredibly pleased with the progress that my team had made since the Slytherin match. Everyone was performing their best, and I was especially heartened by the way that Bree, Lily, and I were playing together as if we'd been doing it for years instead of a little under four months.

I was the first Gryffindor in the Great Hall, so I chose a seat in the middle of the long table. Grabbing an apple and some granola, I settled in to wait for the rest of the team.

Waffle flew in and landed next to my plate, depositing a letter on top of my silverware. I stroked his tawny colored feathers lightly, and he hooted happily in response.

Picking up the envelope, I tore open the flap and saw that it was a short note from my parents.

_Eva,_

_We just wanted to wish you luck with your match today. Remember that no matter the outcome, we're incredibly proud of you. Keep your elbows tucked in, play well (as you always do) and have fun!_

_Much love,_

_Mum and Dad_

_P.S. Go Gryffindor! _

Somebody dropped onto the bench across from me, and looking up I saw that it was James. He looked just as determined as I felt.

I folded up my letter and shoved it into the pocket of my robes. Waffle spread his wings and flew off back towards the owlery.

James was silent for a moment as he filled his plate, then he looked up at me and said, "I've thought about what you said after the last match, about why I didn't catch the Snitch before Malfoy."

He was telling me this now, the same morning as our next match? Sweet Merlin.

But looking on the positive side, he must have listened to what I was saying to him as his captain. Success! And maybe he was speaking to me again. For now, anyway.

"And?" I prompted hopefully, watching his face as he chewed on some sausages.

"He outplayed me," James replied frankly after he had swallowed his food. "I've thought through those last moments of that match over and over again, but I never come up with another answer. Malfoy may be a Slytherin, but he played a fair Quidditch match. We were both reaching for it, but he's got these long fingers – he just grabbed the Snitch before I could."

"Well," I said, thinking about what James had just told me, "there's not much you can do about that except to spot the Snitch first. Thanks for thinking about it and letting me know."

We sat in silence eating our breakfast for a moment, but the silence and my own guilt gnawed at me until I blurted out, "I'm sorry!"

James looked up sharply, his brown eyes a bit wider than normal.

"For what I said at the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match," I clarified, looking him directly in the eyes, trying to ensure that he knew how sorry I was. "It was an awful thing to say. I just…I was so tired of people saying that Jonathan was just some Hufflepuff I shouldn't waste my time on, that I snapped. I took out my anger on you and I shouldn't have done. I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean it… I don't hate you."

He nodded somewhat tersely, then said, "Your boyfriend coming to the match today?"

Really? This is what he says to me right after I've done my best to patch things up between us?

"Yes, he agreed to come with his mates," I answered evenly in an attempt to avoid a row.

"Does Grant even know what a Quaffle is?" he asked with a laughing smirk.

In spite of myself, I found myself saying, "It's entirely possible that he doesn't."

He shook his head as he gave a wry laugh. "Oh, Eva."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I challenged as I took a bite out of my apple.

"Eva Wood, the girl who lives and breathes Quidditch is dating a bloke who not only doesn't like Quidditch, but may not even know what a Quaffle is."

"It is rather ironic," I admitted. "But he's a nice guy. It's a good feeling, being fancied by someone like Jonathan."

James looked at me for a long moment, face unreadable (by me anyway) and then replied, "I still say that he's all wrong for you."

Before I could reply, Zara and Bree appeared with enthusiastic hellos.

"It's match day!" Bree grinned widely.

Zara cracked her knuckles in a slightly menacing way. "Hufflepuff is going down."

That's the spirit, team!

"Oh, are you two finally going to get along, then?" Lily asked as she appeared at James's side.

I would like to point out that James has been the one not getting along with me, thank you very much. Except for that incident in which I yelled at him and made him upset with me. So maybe it was mostly my fault. Or entirely my fault.

"Yeah," James replied. Even though it was Lily he was speaking to, it was towards me that he directed his gaze. He offered me a half-smile and a slight shrug of one shoulder as if to say, _I'm a prat – sorry. _

I offered him a smile of my own in return to show that I understood and that I had been a prat as well. Because if I was being extremely honest with myself, I had been a complete prat (or worse) toward him.

Twenty minutes later, it was time to make our way down to the pitch. As we exited through the doors to the Great Hall, I spotted Lyra Rinaldi and her friends standing not far off, huddled together.

When she saw me, she derisively called out, "Good luck, Wood! You'll need it against those Hufflepuffs!"

She and her friends began to laugh mockingly, but then suddenly their harsh laughs turned into squeals of surprise and outrage as their legs jerked around uncontrollably.

I glanced to my left and saw James standing with his wand held at his side. Wow, that was a very impressive use of nonverbal spells.

"Nice jellylegs jinx," I complimented him with a smile.

"Thanks," he replied easily, stowing his wand back in the pocket of his robes.

The rest of the Gryffindor team broke into peals of laughter as we walked away from the group of Slytherin girls.

Once everyone was dressed in their Quidditch kit, they assembled on the benches in front of the chalkboard.

"All right, team," I said, clasping my hands together in front of me in and settling my feet into what I hoped was an authoritative looking stance.

"We've improved a lot since our last match, so let's really focus on executing the plays and strategies that I know we're capable of. Nico and Zara, remember the aiming technique we've worked on. Richard, look out for Natasha. Bree, Lily, and myself, don't forget the modifications we've made to some of the more classic plays. And James," I gave him a pointed stare, "if you don't catch the Snitch before their rubbish Seeker, I will punch you in the face."

"You'd never punch of a member of your team," he scoffed.

"I could start."

"Noted," he grinned as he ran a hand through his inky black hair.

I looked around at my team sitting before me, excitement shining in their faces. "Thanks for all of your hard work – now let's go and take down Hufflepuff!"

Everyone cheered in response and before I knew it we were flying onto the pitch with the commentator announcing the names of all of the players.

"The Hufflepuff team is captained by Colin Palmer and the Gryffindor team is led by Eva Wood!"

I loved hearing my name being announced as the team captain. It definitely wasn't something I would ever take for granted. I had worked too hard for too long to ever forget that I was chosen because I had the most potential.

As my eyes scanned the crowd, I saw a small cluster of people in the crowd wearing robes emblazoned with the emblems of several Quidditch sides. _Scouts._ There were Quidditch scouts here to watch the match. I felt adrenaline pumping through my body with the knowledge that we didn't just have a match to win – I also had scouts to impress.

"On my whistle," Madam Hooch instructed. A moment later, she blew her whistle and threw the red Quaffle as high into the air as she could.

Even though I was the lead Chaser and they usually were the ones to make a play to catch the Quaffle first, I had instructed Lily that she was to try for it instead. Hufflepuff probably wouldn't be expecting that, and I had been correct. Hufflepuff's Chasers were completely taken aback when Lily was the one to fly off with the Quaffle while Bree and I instead flew forward and up to begin our formation.

With the advantage of surprise, Lily was able to score quickly and incredibly easily. This elicited a large shout of approval from the Gryffindor stands. We were off to a great start.

Gryffindor scored twice more before Hufflepuff scored their first goal of the match. Hufflepuff was hard working and they played a fair game, but they just didn't have the talent that Gryffindor possessed. A couple of good players couldn't hold for long against seven good players.

The whistle sounded and Madam Hooch announced a foul against Gryffindor because Bree and I had mucked up a formation and had both flown into the scoring area.

Note to self: work on that play.

Natasha Martin took the foul for Hufflepuff and I watched nervously as she flew towards Richard. As she entered the scoring area, she feinted to the right and then pulled back her arm and threw the Quaffle towards the far left golden hoop. Richard dove for the Quaffle and caught it deftly in his hands.

Look at Richard being awesome! I was so proud of my little brother.

Thirty minutes later, the score was 280-120 with Gryffindor in the lead.

Bree, with all three of the Hufflepuff Chasers closing in on her, made a hasty pass to me. At the same moment, I saw one of the Hufflepuff Beaters, Blessington, aim a Bludger in my direction to keep us from successfully completing the pass. He clearly expected me to abandon any hope of catching the Quaffle, which just went to show that he didn't know his competition very well.

I barely had time to catch the Quaffle with my fingertips and pull it into my body before I jerked my broom hard to the right with one hand. The Bludger grazed my left shoulder, making me gasp aloud. At least I hadn't taken a direct hit to the left pectoral.

Unfortunately, the force from the Bludger combined with my sudden, sharp movement to the right, sent me reeling sideways. If I had been a less experienced player, I would have toppled off of my broom, dropped the Quaffle, and fallen from very high up in the air.

But since I was me, I had prepared for this sort of incident, having seen other players pull off similar moves. As I fell sideways, I used my knees to grip the broom firmly, held on for dear life with my right hand, and with the rest of my body used the momentum from the Bludger hit to help myself perform a barrel-roll.

I knew there was a reason we had gone over that move at our last few practices. It was always a good policy to be prepared for anything in a Quidditch match.

There was a collective gasp from the crowd, and then cheers and applause broke out once everyone realized that I wasn't going to fall off of my broom and have to be carted off the pitch on a stretcher. Rinaldi was probably rather disappointed.

"Amazing! Eva Wood is hit by a Bludger, does a barrel-roll, but still holds on to the Quaffle! What a fantastic move by the Gryffindor captain!" the announcer shouted excitedly.

Well, what did he think, that was I going to _drop it_? Not bloody likely!

I pushed the dull throbbing in my shoulder to the back of my mind and instead focused back in on the match. The Hufflepuff Chasers were now concentrated on me, and quickly coming my way. As I turned my broom around, I tucked the Quaffle more securely under my arm and made certain that my elbow was tucked in.

"It looks as though Potter has seen the Snitch!" the commentator cried in excitement.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lily fly into place on my left. I didn't see Bree on the right, but she had to be there somewhere.

As I flew towards the opposite goals, I saw James hurtling in the opposite direction, the wind blowing his hair into a wild mess. The Hufflepuff Seeker was ages behind him, but doing her best to close the large gap between them.

Before Lily and I could reach the Hufflepuff Keeper and score one last goal, the stands erupted in cheers and shouts.

"And Potter's got it! Gryffindor wins, 430 to 120!"

I could hear the Gryffindor students chanting, "Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor!" and there were red and gold banners and pennants being waved wildly about.

Lily was nearest to me when we landed and we shared a celebratory hug as we practically jumped up and down. Zara crashed into us, hugging us both, and Bree wasn't far behind.

"We won!" Nico shouted, doing a fist pump as he jumped up in the air.

With the amount of points we had gained from this victory, we would certainly be playing in the final as long as we beat Ravenclaw in our next match.

"Eva!" A familiar voice called out to me.

"Jonathan! You made it!" I happily greeted him as he hurriedly approached me. Wow, he had certainly made it down to the pitch quickly.

As he came closer through the crowd, I saw that his face and lips were pale and that he looked to be breathing heavily.

"Are you all right? You look a bit peaky."

Instead of answering my question, he said rather frantically, "How's your shoulder? Are you in pain? What am I saying? Of course you're in pain. We need to get you to the hospital wing immediately."

He took my hand, presumably to lead me up to the hospital wing. As if I needed to see Madam Pomfrey!

"I'm fine, really," I protested, looking into his earnest face. "It hurts a bit, but it's just going to leave a large bruise. I promise."

Jonathan still looked doubtful. Seriously, hadn't I told him that I'd played with dislocated fingers? That had been more painful than this injury.

"This isn't a serious injury," I insisted, starting to feel a bit exasperated over his needless anxiety. "People are hit by Bludgers all the time."

Silly boy, not understanding Quidditch. If he would just attend House matches like everyone else in the bleeding school, he would know this.

"I just…" he swallowed heavily and took my other hand. "I was worried. That Bludger hit you and then you practically flipped sideways off your broom. What else was I supposed to think?"

"I didn't fall off this time, I was clearly fine."

"_This_ _time?_" You've fallen off your broom before?"

Quidditch was a rough sport – accidents happened. I decided not to tell him about the times I had fallen while trying new moves or stunts. That would probably not go over well considering a few times had been somewhat intentional. How else was I supposed to learn how to not fall off if I didn't almost fall off to begin with?

"It's _Quidditch,_" I stressed. Why couldn't he just understand this?

Jonathan didn't look remotely mollified, but he said, "Well, I'm glad that you're not hurt too badly. And I'm pleased that you won the match."

"Thanks," I told him and in response, he leaned in and kissed me, putting his arms around me protectively. I felt my exasperation melt away. Jonathan was a sweet bloke, and he had just been worried. I shouldn't have been irritated at him for caring about me.

"Eva!" I heard James's voice call. Apparently he was looking for me.

"She's _busy_, you prat," Zara yelled back.

I pulled away from Jonathan, feeling my face grow warm. I had completely forgotten that we were in the middle of a large crowd of people. It seemed to have slipped his mind as well, because his face and neck were a bright red color.

James pushed his way through the crowd, a wide grin gracing his handsome face. His smile faltered as he caught sight of me standing with Jonathan's arms around me, but in a flash his smile was back and there was a determined look in his brown eyes.

"You caught the Snitch! We won!" I all but screamed, the adrenaline of our victory once more pumping through my veins. During my talk with Jonathan, it had been ignored and slightly forgotten, but now it all came suddenly crashing back.

"We won! And you didn't have to punch me in the face!" James shouted in agreement over Nico's head. I pulled fully away from Jonathan and moved eagerly towards James. To my great surprise, he pulled me into a tight hug.

I was completely and utterly ecstatic that Gryffindor had won. I wasn't a failure and my team was capable of playing one hell of an awesome Quidditch match.

"I knew you'd catch it," I replied with a laugh. "Besides, you should know better than anyone that that's a completely empty threat. If I had been going to punch you in the face, I would have done it by now."

He laughed and nodded. "Yeah, that's true."

James had nice, strong arms. I had first noticed that when I walked in on him without his shirt on. Not that I was thinking about that at all. Only it was hard not to considering those arms were currently wrapped around me.

"There you are!"

Was that really who I thought it was? James released me and I turned to see my dad, mum, and Tristan.

"You came!" I cried happily, launching myself in their direction.

"It was a last minute decision," Mum explained. "Your father rescheduled the Puddlemere practice for this evening."

That was practically unheard of. Dad very seldom rescheduled practices and canceling was out of the question. The only exceptions were if there was lightning and if someone was sick or injured or dying. Practice went on no matter what and that was that.

"Hi, Potter. How's it going?" Tristan struck up a conversation with James.

How typical of my brother. He comes to watch me play and then doesn't say so much as hello to me but instead starts chatting with one of his old teammates.

"Except for all of the N.E.W.T. level schoolwork, things are completely ace," Potter grinned. I noticed that he was still holding the Golden Snitch tightly in his right hand.

My dad's strong, warm arms surrounded me in one of his wonderful hugs. "We thought after the last match, we should make a point to try and come this time," he told me.

"I'm so glad that you came," I replied, feeling positively blissful with the way that today had turned out.

"That barrel-roll was perfectly executed," Dad said eagerly. "I could tell that you've been practicing that one. And good job on keeping your elbows in."

"Naturally," I grinned back.

"My only suggestions would be –" he began, but Mum cut him off as she put an arm around my shoulders.

"Oliver, this is your daughter we're talking about. She is nothing, if not thorough, when critiquing her own team."

"But I just thought – " he started again, but this time I was the one to stop him.

"Dad, please," I bit my lip. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. After all, he was my father and he had taught me everything he knew about Quidditch. Well, to be fair, Mum had also done her fair share of training me, but it was Dad who was the truly fanatical one.

"I want to do this on my own," I told him. "It's my team and my responsibility."

Dad looked at me for a long moment and then smiled even as he shook his head. "You're my daughter through and through." He looked over at Mum and said, "I think she gets the stubbornness from you."

"I beg to differ." Mum raised one of her eyebrows (I get that from her) and she fixed my dad with a disbelieving stare.

"You did great out there today," Tristan told me once he finally stopped talking to James and came over to hug me. "You've done a good job with your team."

Yes, I happily thought to myself, as I looked around me in satisfaction, the Gryffindor team had been brilliant today.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Next chapter:** The Gryffindor victory party - lots of Fred, Al, and James, and Gemma makes her move.


	15. Victory

**,Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_**Chapter Fifteen: Victory**_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

The victory party was in full swing in Gryffindor Tower as I left Christine discussing something with Roxanne and made my way across the common room in search of a butterbeer. All around me my fellow students were celebrating the Quidditch victory, drinking butterbeer, dancing, and chatting happily with their friends.

"You won!" Richard and Gareth nearly knocked me to the ground with their joint hug.

"Brilliant play with the Bludger," Richard told me excitedly.

"One of your best ever. So far," Gareth added. "I'll bet the scouts were impressed."

I certainly hoped so.

"Eva Lou- eese," Fred slurred as he spotted me from his vantage point perched on the armrest of an overstuffed chair.

"See you around, Eva!" Richard told me as he and Gareth spotted some of their friends.

"'Lo, Fred," I greeted him happily. "We won! I'm definitely not a failure now! Isn't it brilliant?"

"It ish," he grinned widely. He held up his bottle of butterbeer in my direction and pretended to toast me. "You're… a fan-bleedin'-tastic capt'in. Ev'ry un says so."

"Aw, thank you!" I thanked him, giving him a hug. I was in too good of a mood to care that this was Fred-what-a-prat-Weasley I was hugging. I had been hugged by what felt like half of Gryffindor House already this evening – what was one more person?

"Have you had t'much alcohol too?" he asked me, sounding at once both happy and suspicious even through his slurred speech.

"Nope!" I replied happily, holding up my own nearly full bottle of butterbeer for his inspection. "I'm just ecstatic that we won."

"Know wha'?" he said, throwing his arm that was holding the bottle of butterbeer around my shoulders. "You should be this nice t'me all t'time."

I laughed out loud. "Only if _you're_ this nice to me when you don't have a bottle of butterbeer in your hand."

"I'm allays perfectledly nice t'you."

His arm suddenly dropped from my shoulders and his brown eyes widened.

"Fred, are you okay?" I asked, but he was staring past me.

"What t'bleedin' hell," he stammered, eyes wide but not entirely focused. "Ish that…_James_?"

I looked to where Fred was pointing and saw James dancing on a table in the middle of the room. With Gemma Finnegan.

It looked as though as Gemma was making her move. It also appeared as though James was probably in a state in which he wouldn't be terribly picky about his dance partner.

As Fred and I (and about half of the people in the common room) watched with unabashed interest, Gemma edged a bit closer. James's eyes were closed and he was bobbing his head enthusiastically along with the beat, so he didn't notice.

"_What_ is going on?" Al asked as he came to stand next to us. "I can't believe I'm seeing _James_ dance with _Gemma_. I mean…I thought - "

"Has anyone seen Rose? She's disappeared," Lily asked as she walked by. Then she saw James and her jaw dropped open, all thoughts of searching for Rose instantly forgotten.

"Tha' was my reaction," Fred commented, slightly glazed eyes still glued on his cousin.

"I thought he said he didn't like her personality," Al stated, tilting his head to the side in wonder as he watched.

"He's pissed," I snorted. "He doesn't care about her personality right now."

"I don't think he is," Lily mused. "He's not opposed to a few drinks, but he doesn't like to get drunk."

"Dunno why," Fred cut in, raising his butterbeer in the air in a kind of toast.

"He says," Lily continued on as though Fred had not spoken, "he doesn't like having his judgment impaired, and he never wants to accidentally do anything to jeopardize his Quidditch career."

"You two have that in common," Al told me in a helpful tone.

James and I have been on the team together for how many years now – four? How many victory parties had we been to together and I'd I never noticed this about him?

Granted, in past years I didn't exactly go out of my way to pay attention to what James Potter was or wasn't doing. We typically spent the time after a match critiquing each other's performance on the pitch. But considering it involved Quidditch, one would think that I might have noticed at some point, especially considering that I agreed with him. Why would I ever want to do anything to jeopardize everything for which I had worked so hard?

When we were in our fourth year, there had been a professional player for the Falcons who, during a wild, drunken victory party at his home, had been tragically drowned by a kappa in his own backyard pond. Incidents like that were extremely rare, but the picture that had been plastered on the front of the _Daily Prophet_ was permanently seared into my mind.

Quidditch itself had its dangers, and I was content to let those be the only dangers I intentionally put myself in.

"Wanna dance, Eva?" Fred suddenly asked me, holding out a hand in a gentlemanly manner.

"Why not?" I replied.

He had a mischievous glint in his eyes, but Fred was harmless. Mostly.

I set my drink down and took his hand. We made our way over to where James and Gemma still were dancing on their table. Fred hauled himself up on the next table over and held down a hand to me.

"C'mon – be a sport."

I hesitated and then grasped his hand in mine. I never was much good at turning down a harmless challenge. He let out an amused laugh and helped pull me up next to him.

Across the room, I could see Richard and Gareth watching me with identical looks of amusement and confusion.

"Go Eva!" Gareth suddenly shouted in a gleeful voice.

"I love this song!" Fred shouted to me over the sound of the music.

"The Weird Sisters are classic!" I agreed as I moved to the rhythm of the music.

After Fred and I had joined in the dancing, loads of other students did so as well. People were dancing in pairs and in large groups in the center of the common room; a magical radio set up on the fireplace mantel blared loudly.

Bree was dancing with a sixth year whose name I couldn't remember. Zara was dancing with Nico, which looked rather comical considering she was about six inches taller than him.

"Hey, Al!" Fred called a few songs later. "Come and dance with Eva for a bit, won't you? There's a brunette sitting over there just waiting for me to ask her to dance."

I not-so-subtly looked over in the direction that Fred was gazing and saw sixth year Susanna Peters talking animatedly with her friends.

He had about as much of a chance of winning her over as he did me. While I found Fred to be a bit of a prat, he was a light-hearted and fun prat to be around most of the time. Susanna, on the other hand, was well known for intensely disliking him.

"Congratulations," Al told me as he took my hand, helping me jump down from the table. The song was a slower one, and I put my left hand on his shoulder and we swayed gently to the music.

It was some new cheesy song that I thoroughly detested, but the Sorcha claimed was the most moving thing she'd ever heard and listened to it constantly on her wireless set up on her bedside table.

Near us, James was now dancing with Jessica Walters, Gareth was dancing with a girl I didn't recognize, and Nico was dancing with Lily. I hoped for Nico's sake that James hadn't seen the two of them. I really didn't want a fight to break out in the middle of the common room.

"Everyone looks so happy," I said, glancing around the common room. "That's one of the best parts of winning, you know, seeing all of the Gryffindors excited and everyone being able to share in the victory together. I'll miss that once I've finished Hogwarts."

"A Quidditch victory at Hogwarts is a victory for the whole House, not just the team."

"Well said."

Al smiled. "I borrowed that from James."

Oh. Well. Right, then.

"_What _is Lily doing dancing with Nico?" Al suddenly demanded, his vivid green eyes narrowing dangerously.

Oh, bugger. I had forgotten that there were _two_ protective Potter brothers watching out for Lily. Of all the times for that to slip my mind.

"Don't bother them, Al," I pleaded as he stopped dancing and made to push past me. I grabbed onto his shoulders and forced him backwards a bit. "They're _just dancing_ the same way that you and I are _just dancing_."

"James said that Nico had made _comments_ about Lily," Al responded through clenched teeth, straining to move past me.

I pushed back, grateful for my time spent working out and acquiring some muscle. "You don't know that anything is going on between them."

"You don't know that there's not! We don't want her dancing with Nico."

"Why not?" I asked. "He's a great bloke, she'd be lucky to have him."

Al pulled a face. "James and I want someone different for her."

For some reason, that statement sounded oddly familiar. Why did this gibberish mean something to me?

"What do you mean, someone different?"

Al didn't answer me, so I pressed further. "So, you have someone in mind for her?"

Then I remembered where I had heard about this before – Quidditch tryouts. Nico had commented that Lily was good looking and James had about had a fit because he and Al had already found someone that Lily should date.

"We think she and..._this one bloke_ would do nicely together. They both like Quidditch a lot."

Well, that's a good basis for a relationship. Now I was curious.

"Does this bloke have a name?"

"You're not supposed to know yet. Our plan is a bit…_vague_ at the moment."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Your brilliant plan so far includes keeping Lily away from other blokes?"

"Pretty much," Al conceded, looking bashful about the entire matter. Oh, Al. What a sweet kid.

Fifteen minutes later, I was dancing in a circle with a group of girls that included Christine, Roxanne, Lily, Bree, and Zara when Fred returned for me.

"One more?" he asked, looking hopeful.

I shrugged but took his hand with a smile. "All right, then."

We hadn't been dancing long - not even an entire song - when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Mind if I cut in?"

I turned around and to my great surprise, saw James standing behind me, his hair in its usual state of disarray. His eyes were bright and he was smirking, but he didn't seem intoxicated like I had originally thought. He just seemed thrilled with our victory over Hufflepuff. I couldn't exactly blame him – I felt the same as he did.

"Um, okay," I said, feeling somewhat nervous at the idea of dancing with James. I glanced back at Fred to make certain that he didn't mind, and in response he all but shoved me into James's arms.

"Thanks, mate," James told his cousin over my head as he effortlessly caught me and steadied me on my feet.

"No problem," Fred winked at me in his typical flirtatious fashion and moved off, still dancing, to find another partner.

"Isn't this the part where we insult each other's flying abilities?" I joked as we began moving with the music. I had to step closer to hear him over the loud music, but stepping closer brought to mind mental images of the shirtless variety that I didn't want to think about. Ugh.

"I can't believe you flew into the scoring area," he told me. "That's such an amateur mistake."

I arched an eyebrow. "I can't believe you're still mucking up the timing on your dives."

We stared at each other for a moment, and then we both burst out laughing.

"You looked pretty cozy with Gemma up on that table earlier," I observed.

"Jealous?" he asked with a smirk.

I scoffed and fixed him with a disbelieving look even as my heart pounded loudly in my chest. I could feel the music pulsing inside my body. Someone must have turned up the volume.

"Didn't think so," he replied. He took my hand then, and pulled me in closer towards him in a dramatic spin, and then he spun me out again.

Whoa, who knew James Potter could dance? And not just teenage flop around sort of dancing, but real, _dancing_ dancing.

"Impressive," I told him. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Older female cousins Victoire and Dominique" he explained as he spun me again. "They're half French."

"I'm surprised you put up with learning dance," I teased him. "Especially when there's Quidditch to be played. I would _never_ have stood for someone cutting into my Quidditch time."

James grinned. "You grew up with three brothers, not bossy girl cousins."

"I have girl cousins," I argued as I almost stepped on his right foot. Whoops.

"Yeah, but my family is completely mad and everyone is involved in everyone else's business and we don't know what privacy is."

"That's true," I acknowledged with a nod. "Some of your cousins have no sense of boundaries."

"Roxanne and Fred especially," he agreed heartily.

"Nosy sods the both of them."

We danced in silence for a moment, then of course, the topic changed to Quidditch.

"Did you see the scouts out there today?"

James nodded. "I saw Puddlemere, the Harpies, Falcons, Arrows, and Canons."

"Ugh, who'd want to join the Canons?" I said, referring the fact that he was wearing a bright orange Canons t-shirt.

"Maybe I do," James smirked at me. "I'd be in my Uncle Ron's good graces forever if I could get him tickets to every match."

"Which team do you want to play for?" I asked, finding myself curious about James's Quidditch aspirations.

"Dunno," James shrugged. "I can't exactly play for my favorite team like you can for yours."

Yeah, James Potter definitely didn't qualify to play for the Holyhead Harpies. I could vouch for that – after all, I had seen him shirtless.

"I'm keeping my options open. We'll see who offers me a spot."

"Makes sense," I agreed. "So did you hear that the Wasps signed a new reserve Chaser?"

"Selene Bagman," James nodded. "Graduated a couple of years ago. She's not bad, but she's relying too much on her grandfather's fame, if you ask me."

"I didn't think that," I said as I bumped into someone. "Sorry," I said over my shoulder.

"I'm cutting in," a female voice informed me. Gemma stood there in front of us wearing an expression that looked as though she was trying very hard not to be cross. She was failing, by the way.

"Oh, um," I started, surprised by the unexpected interruption.

"Don't you have a boyfriend?" she threw at me, her eyes narrowed a bit as she looked at me.

Merlin, she was rather serious about her pursuit of James. Sorcha apparently hadn't been able to convince her that James wasn't interested. I supposed that him dancing with her hadn't helped matters any.

"James is my friend," I defended myself and him. I could dance with whomever I wanted and it wasn't as though we were dancing inappropriately or anything.

"Sorry, Gemma, I'd rather talk with Eva right now," James told her, sounding very casual about turning her down in front of me. "Quidditch stuff."

Gemma clearly hadn't been expecting James to reject her and looked completely thrown by his words. Her cool, confident demeanor fell away and she said in a small voice, "Oh. Um…okay."

"She fancies you, you know. Dancing with her earlier was just leading her on," I told him as I watched Gemma all but stumble away from us, grab Sorcha by the elbow and steer her into a corner.

"I wasn't leading her on."

I fixed him with a challenging stare. "Then why were you dancing with her earlier?"

"I could never fancy her – she doesn't like Quidditch. That and I just don't care for her as a person," he added as an afterthought. "I was just being a gentleman. Agreeing to dance with her again would have been leading her on."

Personally, I thought it was too little too late for that.

"How did you know she fancies me?" he suddenly asked, giving me a strange look.

Oops. The conversation that I had overheard between Sorcha and Gemma was never meant to be heard by me. Er…

"What, I can't notice things?"

James laughed out loud at the very idea. Prat. "Not possible."

"Oh, fine, you're right," I allowed grumpily. "But I'm not telling you how I know."

Oh, Merlin, I just told James Potter that he was correct about something. I'd never live this down.

"'Course I'm right." His brown eyes sparkled as he offered me a smile/smirk.

I poked him in the shoulder. "Don't let it go to your head."

In response, he smirked. "Too late. So…we're friends, then?" he asked, referring to my earlier words to Gemma.

I looked up into James's face, his hopeful brown eyes gazing at me intently.

"Yeah, we're friends," I decided.

"Eva!" Sorcha cried as she spotted James and me. She sounded as though she had had one drink too many. "_Oliver Wood_ was here! At _Hogwarts_!

I rolled my eyes as James laughed. No kidding.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Hello."

I looked up from my breakfast to see Jonathan standing next to me at the Gryffindor table.

Holy Hippogriffs! I had just left him standing there on the Quidditch pitch after James hugged me and my family appeared hadn't I? I had been so wrapped up in our victory that I had gone and forgotten all about my boyfriend.

"I'm so sorry about leaving you down at the pitch yesterday!" I began, feeling terrible that I was such a rotten girlfriend.

Roxanne raised an eyebrow in curiosity and she and Christine exchanged a meaningful look across the table.

"You appeared busy," Jonathan replied in an understanding manner. "I understand – you'd just won the match."

"I'm a horrible person!" I all but wailed. "I was just so excited that Gryffindor won and then James was there and then my family came to see me…I'm really, _really_ sorry. Here, sit down and have breakfast with us."

He accepted my offer, sliding onto the bench next to me.

"How's your shoulder?" he asked, green eyes scanning my arm.

"Sore," I replied truthfully, "and also very purple. But it'll be fine."

Jonathan's face took on that same worried expression he'd worn yesterday after the match. "Are you certain you don't need to go and see Madam Pomfrey? At least for an ointment?"

"It's just a bruise," I insisted as I mixed some granola into my yogurt. "It's nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing."

"I'm the one who was hit with the bleeding Bludger, I _think _I would know! And Christine has ointment in the dormitory that I used."

He fell silent at my outburst and instead carefully selected two slices of toast and an orange.

"So, what's your team?" Roxanne asked Jonathan as he began to peel the orange.

"Pardon?"

I resisted the urge to let my head drop forward onto the table.

"Your Quidditch team?" she clarified slowly, as though she was speaking to a child.

"Oh, that," Jonathan replied, finally catching on.

I about choked on my breakfast while Christine tried to hide a smile behind her goblet of apple juice.

_Oh, that_? Quidditch was just, "Oh, that?" Holy Hippogriffs.

"I don't follow Quidditch," he further explained. "I much prefer cricket."

"_You don't follow Quidditch_?" Roxanne echoed, clearly trying to wrap her mind around the concept. I was really glad that I wasn't the only one with this problem.

"It's a bit violent for my taste."

"Ah," Roxanne nodded thoughtfully, giving me a funny, sidelong look. "You do know that Eva loves Quidditch more than anything?" she asked him, her chin propped in her hand as she regarded him with an expression of curiosity.

"_He knows_, Roxanne," I stressed, fed up with Roxanne making Jonathan uncomfortable.

"Come on," I said, standing up and taking Jonathan's hand. "Let's go walk around or something before class."

He agreed easily and we walked out of the Great Hall hand in hand.

"I'm sorry about Roxanne," I said as we wandered slowly towards the Transfiguration classroom.

"Don't be," Jonathan replied. "She just doesn't understand that we don't have to enjoy all of the same things in order to like each other."

_That's right_, I reminded myself. Jonathan was a nice bloke and I genuinely liked him. Unlike some people, he didn't have to enjoy Quidditch for me to like him.

So there.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~

Eva and James are friends! Hooray for progress!

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Next chapter:** Jonathan issues an invitation, the students leave for Christmas holiday, and there is a crisis in the Wood family.


	16. Tristan Causes an Uproar

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter Sixteen: Tristan Causes an Uproar **_

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"Will you write to me?" Jonathan asked as we stood on the platform at King's Cross about to part ways for the Christmas holidays.

"Of course," I told him.

"I really, really liked my present," he told me for about the tenth time.

We had exchanged Christmas gifts on the train ride back to London. I had given him a book – an autographed copy of his favorite book, _Wands of Destiny_. It was nice having parents with connections.

Jonathan had given me a book as well, something he had seen in Tomes and Scrolls and had thought that I might like. It was a large picture book with glossy moving images from the most famous Quidditch matches of the last century.

I had to admit that I worried that Jonathan might give me something that would be out of character for me to enjoy, but he had come through nicely. I almost wished that I had been there when he bought the book, just to watch him wander around the Quidditch section of the bookstore.

"And I really like my gift as well," I said. "I'll have to show Tristan, he'll be _incredibly_ jealous."

"My parents are just over there," he pointed at an impeccably dressed couple standing by a bench. "Would you like to meet them?"

"Meet your parents?" I practically squeaked, my eyes widening significantly.

Holy Hippogriffs, I wasn't ready to meet his parents! That implied…well, things that I wasn't certain that I wanted implied just yet. I mean, he was a nice bloke and I liked him, but…_not yet_.

"They're very polite," he insisted, tugging on my hands and leading me over to them. "They're kind to everyone."

I know that was supposed to be reassuring, but it really wasn't. He had essentially just informed me that they could loathe me and they'd still be polite to me. It was too much of a Hufflepuff thing for my Gryffindor tastes. I would rather know if people didn't like me rather than have them pretend to like me.

"Mother, Father," he told them as we approached. "This is my girlfriend, Eva. Eva, these are my parents, Victoria and Edward Grant."

"It's lovely to meet you, dear," Mrs. Grant told me as she held out her hand. She had a flimsy sort of handshake.

"Very nice to meet you," Mr. Grant told me. He had a very deep voice and a very firm handshake. I could imagine that he could be quite intimidating if he tried.

"It's nice to meet you as well," I told them both.

Er…now what? I'd never done the whole meet the significant other's parents thing before.

"We would love for you to come to dinner so that we could all become better acquainted, dear," Mrs. Grant kindly offered with a polite smile.

"That would be nice," I agreed, against my better judgment.

Ugh, if I had to meet Jonathan's parents, that would mean that conversely, he would have to meet mine. And meeting my parents wasn't just meeting my parents – it involved my three brothers as well, two of which had already accosted Jonathan in a corridor and had prematurely decided that they didn't care for him.

"I'll owl you a day and time," Jonathan told me while I tried to maintain a happy and pleased expression on my face. I was quite certain that I was failing. A lovely first impression I was giving.

"All right, then," I nodded.

"I'd better be off," he said with some reluctance. He pulled me closer and kissed me – extremely briefly, considering that his parents were watching. Talk about awkward…

As I joined my family, despite my lack of non-Quidditch related observational skills, I could immediately tell that something was wrong. And if _I_ could easily tell that something was amiss, then something was really, _really _wrong.

For one thing, my parents always came to King's Cross together. But this time, Mum had come to collect us alone, without Dad. There were frown lines on her face and she was uncharacteristically solemn.

Richard and Gareth seemed to have picked up on Mum's off behavior and were standing quietly as they waited for me to turn up. Only they were doing that weird twin thing where they didn't have to physically speak, but they were still communicating.

"Oh, Eva," Mum pulled me into a tight hug, smoothly my hair with one hand in an affectionate gesture. My mum was always glad to see me, but this was different. She seemed worried and sad, and that in turn created loads of worrisome questions in my mind.

"Mum, what's wrong, where's Dad?" I asked anxiously, pulling back and looking her in the eyes.

"He's fine," she assured me, resting her hand on my arm. "He just didn't want to attract any reporters. They've been after him for interviews all day."

"Why, what's happened?" Gareth asked.

"We'll talk about it once we're at home," was her enigmatic reply.

Richard, Gareth, and I shared looks of mutual confusion, knowing that something wasn't right, but not having a clue as to what it might be.

There was a tap on my shoulder and somehow I instantly knew that when I turned around I would find James Potter standing behind me.

"You're on holiday now - don't work too hard on Quidditch strategy," he told me with a slight smirk, brown eyes glinting.

"Look who's talking," I rolled my eyes. "You're going to be busy scribbling in your playbook the whole holiday."

"I do not scribble," he protested indignantly. "My handwriting is perfectly fine."

Who was this bloke trying to kid – his handwriting was complete chicken scratch.

"I've seen that playbook of yours, and I beg to differ."

"Eva, we need to be leaving," my mum reminded me gently, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Sorry Mrs. Wood, enjoy your holiday," James told my mum and brothers before turning back to me with his characteristic smirk. "Happy Christmas, Eva."

And then he was gone.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

When we reached home, we found Dad sitting in his favorite armchair reading the sport section of the _Daily Prophet_. Outwardly, he looked relatively calm, except for a tell-tale twitching in his jaw that only appeared when he was horribly upset.

Being the obsessive Quidditch coach that he was, this was hardly an uncommon sight, but there was something different this time. I could feel it, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Why don't we all sit down," my mum instructed. Richard, Gareth, and I did as she had asked, nervously settling onto the sofa together.

The sitting room had decorated for Christmas. Candles rested in the window and some holly and ivy has been strung across the top of the fireplace. A basket on an end table held cards from relatives. Mum and Dad had set up the tree, but as usual, had left it bare until we arrived home to help decorate it. We certainly had all of the normal sorts of ornaments, but we also had our fair share of Quidditch-themed ornaments.

"Where's Tristan?" I asked, looking around as I realized that my older brother was nowhere to be seen. "Didn't you say that he was coming to stay for the Christmas holiday?"

Dad snapped his newspaper shut and all but threw it down on the coffee table. "Your brother," he practically spat, "is not welcome in this house."

Holy Hippogriffs – what had happened? Tristan was family, and we took family seriously in our home. Not to mention that it was Christmas, for goodness sake.

"What's he done?" Richard and Gareth demanded, faces looking as bewildered as I currently felt.

"Who says he's done anything?" I protested. Even as I said it, I knew that Tristan must have done something terrible for him to no longer be welcome in the house.

Dad sat back heavily in his chair with a loud, very cross sounding harrumph, blue eyes narrowed in anger.

"Tristan," Mum began, then paused as she searched for the right words to say.

Sweet Merlin, she was using her diplomatic tone of voice. I had heard that voice quite often growing up when she was lecturing me about Quidditch safety and it was never a good sign when she used that voice. It meant that she was very extremely hard to either yell or break down in tears.

"What's he _done_? He's gone and quit Puddlemere and joined up with the Tornados!" Dad fairly exploded, his face a splotchy red color.

The sitting room fell silent at Dad's words my brothers and I trying to take in what had just been said. Then Gareth and Richard began protesting.

"He wouldn't!"

"He loves Puddlemere!"

"What would he gain from it?"

I thought about all of the letters that I had exchanged with Tristan over the course of the term. He had been incredibly unhappy with the state of his career. His letters were filled with how he wanted to be more, how he wanted to be a star, how he wanted to use his talents.

"He _wouldn't_!" Gareth argued stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes, he would," I whispered, dropping my face into my hands. "Oh, Merlin, he _would_. He wrote me a while back saying that he might have some important news – he's been _planning_ this."

If possible, Dad seemed to be even more angered at this news. I probably should have kept my mouth shut. I didn't want him having a heart attack or something. We did not need a Christmas visit to St. Mungo's.

"It will be in the papers tomorrow," Mum confirmed, still in that same tone of voice. "It's one of the biggest stories of the year. Oliver Wood's son joins Tornados as the main team Keeper."

Main team? Holy Hippogriffs! How had he managed that? Every team had reserves ready to take over for the main team players – surely the Tornados would have chosen one of their own well-groomed reserves?

Of course, it could have been a dirty tactical move on the part of the Tornados' owner and coach. It wasn't unknown for players to be solicited by other, rival teams. But, training someone to play with the rest of the main team took time, and Tristan was still very new to the League. He wasn't in high demand, whatever he might have thought about himself and his talent. It just didn't make sense.

"He broke his contract with Puddlemere," Dad said slowly. "He gave his resignation this morning at practice, before he'd even told me or your mum."

I sucked in a breath in shock. How could Tristan have done such a thing? He was a bit full of himself and his talent, I knew that. But I didn't ever think that he would break his contract and leave Puddlemere, let alone not talk to Dad about it first.

So much for this being a relaxing and stress free holiday. I think I'd rather go back to Hogwarts and have a chat with Lyra Rinaldi. Frankly, that sounded like more fun.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Jonathan had written me a letter about his holiday, so I had tried to sit down and write a letter in return, but I couldn't think of anything to say. Everything I could think of involved Quidditch, and he wouldn't find that very interesting. In the end, I wrote him a letter with a very brief description of what had happened with Tristan. I also mentioned that I working on Quidditch strategy, and that I didn't understand the Herbology assignment that we had been given over holiday.

He wrote back that he was sorry to hear that my Christmas holiday was not as relaxing as I had hoped, but that maybe speaking to Tristan would be beneficial for me. He also suggested that I come to dinner at his home two days after New Year's. So I had that look forward to. Or dread.

Christmas Day and Boxing Day were lonely without Tristan. I had always been closest to my older brother, but now he wasn't there to talk and joke around with. I spent my time with Richard and Gareth playing Quidditch and brainstorming strategies.

For Christmas, my parents gave me a miniature model of a Quidditch pitch. It came with two sets of miniature brooms that could be moved with my wand to imitate game play. Dad had one in his study (it was really more like a Quidditch memorabilia museum than a proper study) and I had always desperately wanted one of my own.

"It will be useful when you're on a League team someday," Dad told me with a proud smile. "And now you can stop stealing mine."

Tristan had still sent us Christmas presents. Dad wouldn't open his gift, but Mum had received a new cookbook (_Marvelous Magical Feasts!)._ He had given me the broom polish that I had been pining after, Gareth some sort of workout equipment that looked like large rubber bands, and Richard a t-shirt with words on the front that said, "I'm a Keeper."

Richard turned bright red at the sight of it and Gareth elbowed him with a wink. I just laughed.

Once we had opened our presents and eaten a large lunch, we trooped out to the pitch in the backyard for our annual Wood Family Christmas Quidditch Match. We couldn't play with real Bludgers of course, which Dad always considered a great pity. Even though we lived out in the country, if one of the Bludgers had made its way to the next village, it would have been difficult to explain to the Muggles. In their place, we always used enchanted snowballs, which made it rather like a cross between Quidditch and a snowball fight.

But besides the fact that we were now short a player on one side, it just wasn't the same without Tristan. Mum, Richard, and I played against Dad and Gareth. Gareth wasn't a terrible Chaser, but his skills definitely lay in the realm of Beating.

"Eva!" Dad cried happily as the Quaffle sailed past him and through the right hoop, "That was _brilliant_!"

"You know I didn't really score," I told him with a slight roll of my eyes. In the spirit of Christmas, Dad always let me score and he always let Mum's team win even though he insisted that he didn't. He hated losing, but when it was for Mum's sake he didn't seem to mind as much.

Dad flew over to me and hugged me even though we were still sitting on our broomsticks. "That one was real," he told me, his voice sounding oddly choked up. "_Well done_."

"Really?" I cried. "You're not just saying that to give me confidence are you?"

Dad shook his head, and I could tell he was grinning widely by the sound of his voice. "You scored that goal fair and square. You're _that _good. See what you can do when you keep your elbows tucked in? Mind you, I'm not saying you could manage it against me every time…"

I pulled back from the hug and fixed him with a determined stare. "Let's just see about that."

Dad blocked the remainder of my goal attempts for the rest of the match, but I came _very_ close once or twice. And I had fun trying.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

A week later, Dad still wouldn't hear of allowing Tristan in the house, so I had to go to him. I wanted to hear Tristan's point of view; to ask him what had happened. I had to hear him say for himself that he had betrayed Puddlemere.

I used Floo Powder to travel to the Leaky Cauldron. Tristan had written to me that his flat was located on a street near Diagon Alley. The building was rather more posh that I had expected. I really couldn't imagine Tristan living in a place like it.

I knocked on the door and a few moments later it was opened by a stunningly pretty girl. She had straight, layered blond hair with her fringe swept to the side, and she was dressed very fashionably.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I began, thinking that I must have the wrong flat number. I glanced at the piece of paper in my hand and then at the number on the door. Both said No. 17.

"You're Tristan's sister," she said without preamble, tilting her head to the side, very clearly assessing me. It slightly reminded me of the way that Lyra Rinaldi looked at me, though not nearly as condescending and without the evil smirk.

"Uh, yes. Who are you?" I asked, very confused. Was I supposed to know who she was?

"I'm Elena," she said, flipping her long, blonde hair over his shoulder. "Surely Triss has mentioned me."

Triss? Really? No one called him _Triss..._Tristan hated nicknames, especially bleeding stupid ones that ruined his perfectly nice name.

"Oh, yeah, he mentioned you once in a letter," I replied. Until she answered the door, I had entirely forgotten that Tristan mentioned that he was dating someone named Elena. Oops.

She smiled. She had very white teeth. "He's in the kitchen. He said you'd be popping by this afternoon."

She opened the door wider and let me into the flat. Considering what Tristan's starting salary must be (not much, that's for sure), the flat was surprisingly spacious and well furnished. Perhaps the furniture was included? Or maybe Elena had gone shopping with him?

"Eva!" Tristan greeted me warmly as he emerged from the kitchen into the sitting area. He pulled me into a hug that swept me off of my feet. "I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too," I told him. "And thank you for the new polish – it's brilliant! My broom has never been so shiny."

"I've heard so much about you," Elena commented.

"I told her all about how we played on the Gryffindor team together and about growing up," Tristan said, releasing me and moving to put his arm around Elena. In return, she rested her head on his shoulder and gazed up at him with sultry eyes.

"So, Eva, Triss says that you're a Chaser," Elena turned her attention back to me.

Did she have to keep calling him that? It made me want to vomit all over her expensive looking shoes.

"That's right."

"I was a Chaser too, when I was at Hogwarts. My seventh year we lost the Cup to Ravenclaw – but you'll remember that. Our Slytherin Chasers just couldn't work as a team. Cooperation and knowing how to take direction are essential and the other two…well, those weren't skills that they possessed."

Based on my memories of a few years ago, I would have been willing to wager a guess and say that Elena had been the one who had been unable to cooperate and take direction. The other two Chasers probably didn't want to take direction from her rather than their captain.

"I'm very fortunate to have two other excellent Chasers," I said proudly, fondly thinking of Lily and Bree. "They're both talented, but not so talented that they don't think they have nothing left to learn."

"That does sound ideal. How's Slytherin's chances for the Cup this year?"

Ugh. Who wanted to know about _Slytherin?_

"They beat us, so they're more than decent," I replied honestly. "But they won't walk away with the Cup if the Gryffindor team and I have anything to say about it."

Elena flashed me a small smile, then suddenly said, "Well, I should leave you two to catch up. I'll just go watch the telly in the bedroom for a while. It was nice to meet you, Eva."

"Why doesn't she just go home?" I asked after Elena had left the room and I heard the door click shut. "You knew I was coming, couldn't she have come to see you another time?"

"She lives here Eva," he replied, seeming confused by my confusion.

Well, no wonder the furniture and interior decorating were so nice – it was all Elena's. I knew Tristan wasn't capable of picking out home furnishings.

"Then why didn't you have me come to your flat instead of hers?"

Tristan seemed to think that my question was extremely funny, but I didn't understand what he was laughing so hard about.

"I'd forgotten about your ability to take in all of the facts and yet not be able to put a single one of them together," he told me as he caught his breath. "Eva, _we both_ live here."

Something told me they weren't just flatmates either. Nice of me to finally catch on.

"You're _living_ with her?" I asked, feeling rather shocked by this news. "Didn't you start dating in October? That seems a bit soon to me."

He merely shrugged off my concern for him as though my unease was completely unwarranted. "I like her a lot. She's fantastic."

Yeah, I could just guess in what ways Tristan found her "fantastic." Ugh. I wanted my memory modified.

"And," he added, "we both know what we want and we go after it. We just…clicked, you know?"

No, I really didn't. Elena gave me a weird vibe, and I didn't care for her at all.

"So, going after what you want is what makes it all right for you to abandon Puddlemere?" I demanded, finally bringing up the subject I'd wanted to talk about since Mum and Dad had explained the situation to me.

"Players break contracts all of the time. I'm not exactly the first."

"But it's _wrong_," I protested as vehemently as I could. "And to tell Mum and Dad after the fact? How could you do that to them? Especially Dad."

"Look, Eva, I told them the best way that I could. But being out on my own and being with Elena has made me realize that I don't need their approval for everything. I'm almost twenty. I can make my own decisions."

Something suddenly clicked in my mind. It didn't happen often, so it rather took me by surprise.

"Elena...That's why you left Puddlemere, isn't it?" I said. "Her father owns the Tornados and she's got you under her thumb because you're shagging her and she convinced you that you would be much better off with her father's team."

"Elena didn't convince me to do anything. I made the decision on my own. But she was right - my talent is wasted as a reserve for Puddlemere. I'm on the Tornados' main team now. I'm going places! You're ambitious too. Aren't you the one who's always saying we play the game because we love it? Before I wasn't able to play, but now I can. I did this _because I want to play_."

"No, you did it because you're impatient and selfish," I replied in a hard voice. "Did you just expect Puddlemere to sack Rhys because you're so _important _and _talented_? That just because you're Tristan Wood everyone should pander to you and what you want the moment you want it? Being a reserve is nothing to sneeze at! It's almost unheard of for players to make the main team after graduating. _Nearly everyone_ plays reserve first. Being a reserve for Puddlemere was a huge accomplishment. It's what we always talked about…playing for Puddlemere."

"You never change, Eva," he shook his head, as though deploring my poor, sad choices. "For you, it's all about blind devotion to Puddlemere. They could be the worst team in the league and keep you on reserve forever and you'd be frantic to join up once you're done at Hogwarts. Would you even consider playing for another team?"

Um, why would I do that? Puddlemere was the team I loved and the team I wanted to play for. I would be happy - not to mention proud - to wear the Puddlemere kit.

"What's happened to you, Tristan?" I asked him, unable to keep the sadness from my voice.

"I grew up. I realized that sometimes you have to seek out opportunities yourself. In a few months you'll understand. You're talented – you won't waste your career rotting on some reserve squad. When you have the chance to fly with a main team, you'll take it."

I stood up and stared down at my brother, still sitting on the sofa. "You're wrong. I wouldn't do something like that. Not if it goes against my word and it's at the expense of others."

"It's just business!" Tristan shouted as he teetered on the brink of losing his temper.

"That's just an excuse you're telling yourself to justify the fact that you're an arrogant prat who doesn't care about others!"

Tristan began to speak, but I harshly cut across him, "I think it's time I went home."

"I think that's a good idea." His voice was equally hard and his eyes were blazing with anger.

I walked to the door (trying very hard not to storm out), opened it, walked through, and shut it loudly behind me. An elderly witch standing in front of her door at the end of the hall cast me a look of slight alarm. So much for not storming out.

As I walked out of the building and onto the street, I felt as though I had been hit with a particularly strong Confundus Charm. Or two.

What in the name of Merlin was happening? What had happened to my older brother? He'd always been a tad arrogant and had never been shy about his self-confidence…but this version of Tristan was practically a stranger to me.

I was angry with him. So incredibly angry that I was practically shaking with it. I needed to go home and go for a nice, long fly. That would help calm me down and help me to think clearly. What an awful day.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~

Congratulations to wishfulthinking123, for coming very close to guessing after Chapter Nine what Tristan's potential big news might be!

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Next chapter:** Eva unexpectedly runs into an old friend, Oliver has a few words to say, and Eva visits Jonathan and his parents.


	17. A Lack of Impartiality

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_**Chapter Seventeen: A Lack of Impartiality**_

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Even though I had planned to go home and go flying to relieve the stress of my visit to see Tristan, I never made it that far.

"Eva!" a low, male voice called out as I was practically stomping in anger down Diagon Alley. "Eva Wood!"

I turned and to my great surprise, saw my former Quidditch captain, Sean O'Mara standing there waving at me. He was sporting a new, much shorter haircut and was wearing a smart black pea coat with a plaid scarf.

"Sean!" I waved back happily and walked towards him. It was a relief to see a friendly face after the encounter that I'd just had with my idiot older brother.

"What are you doing here?" he asked as he gave me a brief hug.

"Er…visiting Tristan. What are you doing here?"

I hoped he didn't ask about the situation with Tristan leaving Puddlemere.

"Just doing some last minute Christmas shopping," he shrugged. "I read about Tristan breaking his contract with Puddlemere and signing up with the Tornados."

Well, so much for that futile hope. Of course he'd read about in the papers and magazines. It was huge news in the Quidditch world. Not because Tristan broke his contract and changed teams, but because of Dad. Most of the stories were sensationalized and emphasized how Oliver Wood coached Puddlemere, and how his son had suddenly left. But at least the stories weren't as rubbish as they could have been considering mum was the head editor of _Quidditch Weekly_ and Ginny Potter was a Quidditch writer at the _Daily Prophet_ and they didn't write drivel.

"Yeah," I said, trying to convey with my facial expression that I didn't want to talk about it at all. "It's been…um, difficult."

"I reckon your dad went mental," Sean continued, apparently not noticing my complete and utter discomfort.

Stop talking, Sean. Right now.

"He wasn't happy, no," I allowed. I hadn't seen Sean for a long time – did he really expect me to gossip about my family crisis to him?

"So, how's the Gryffindor team?" he asked, _finally _moving away from the topic of Tristan's scandal. "Going to bring home the Cup this year, I hope?"

"We're doing very well!" I replied happily, still basking in our recent victory. "We lost to Slytherin in the first match, but we've trained really hard since then and have improved a lot. We beat Hufflepuff in the last match before the holidays. We'll have to see what the outcome between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw match before we'll know what we're facing in the final."

"Brilliant!" he said. "I knew you'd make a good choice as captain."

"So, how did you go about choosing the next captain?" I asked. "Just…I want to be thinking about it in advance and I wanted someone else's opinion on how to go about it."

I felt like such a Slytherin asking this way, under the guise of advice. I didn't need advice on how to pick my successor at all. But…I did need to hear once and for all that I had been chosen as captain because I was the most talented, the best leader, the most promising. I was tired of the doubt that kept creeping up on me.

"Well," Sean said, running a hand through his dark red, curly hair. "It wasn't exactly a difficult choice, was it?"

It hadn't been a difficult choice. I expelled a breath of relief.

"In terms of skill, it was a dead even competition between you and Potter," Sean continued, "But I couldn't give him the satisfaction of being captain. I fancied you a bit at the time, so I thought better you than him. Seems to have been a good decision, hasn't it?"

Now that I knew, I wished I didn't. I felt as though the bottom of my stomach had fallen out and I could hear my heart pounding an angry rhythm in my ears. _Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin. _This could _not_ be happening! Not after what had just happened with Tristan.

Before we were mates, James had once nastily told me that I was named captain because I had been snogging Sean. He had been bitter and grasping at straws, but he hadn't been far from the truth.

Perhaps if I blinked and held my eyelids closed for a moment, this would all go away. In desperation, I gave a long blink. But when I opened my eyes, Sean was still standing in front of me, prattling on about how he had thought James was too much of an arrogant git to be captain and how he thought that I would be able to keep James in line.

"So, really, just go with whomever you think will be best," he concluded. "By the way – how did Potter take not being named captain? He seemed to be expecting it. Git thinks he's so high and mighty because he has famous parents."

"He doesn't think that at all!" I hotly defended James. Holy Hippogriffs, the world was so wrong today. "And I have a famous parent too, you know."

"Yeah, I suppose," he shrugged, my argument not making any sort of impact on his logic. "Say - did Richard make it onto the team this year?"

"Yes, he did," I replied, desperately trying to hold myself together. "He's fitting in very well, and he's even helped me with some strategy. And Lily Potter is the new Chaser."

"Makes sense, she's bound to be talented coming from that family. I expect that Potter is going to join up professionally when he's done with Hogwarts? He should go and play for those Harpies he loves so much."

I told myself to breathe deeply, in and out. In and out, in and out.

"Er…listen, I have to go. My mum's expecting me to help her with dinner."

Another lie, but I couldn't stand here talking to Sean anymore. Not when I felt like punching him in the face as much as I did. Why had I ever been friends with this git? He was arrogant and obnoxious. Had I really never seen that about him?

He had been Tristan's friend, I realized. I had always looked up to my older brother; I thought the world of him, and so I had accepted his friends as my own with no hesitation.

"Oh," he said, looking slightly disappointed. "Well, it was good to see you, Eva!"

"Yeah," I said, turning and walking in the other direction. I wasn't even certain of where I was walking to. I just knew that I needed to be far away from here. My brain was so muddled that I could barely think properly.

At some point, I somehow ended up back at the Leaky Cauldron and flooed back to my parents' home. I came out in the sitting room fireplace; thankfully the room was empty. No one was in the hallway either.

I full out ran all the way to our family's makeshift Quidditch pitch, my heart pounding in my chest and my ears stinging. I collapsed underneath the tall, golden hoops, trying to catch my breath as I felt hot tears begin to course down my cheeks.

I was the Quidditch captain because Sean had fancied me and because he had disliked James and didn't want to give the captaincy to someone he didn't like. There had been no impartiality to the choice. None.

That utter git. That smarmy, no good, rotten, idiotic…that…that _bastard._ I didn't use that word lightly, but at the moment I didn't care.

I wanted to hex him again and again and again. And then hex him once more for good measure. And the same went for Tristan.

I sobbed the way I had the day Gryffindor had lost to Slytherin in the first match. It was a similar sort of hurt. Then, I had felt that I was a failure, that I had let my team down, that I had been a poor choice of captain. Now I felt as though everything I had worked for had been a lie. I had allowed myself to feel superior to James because I assumed that I possessed some quality that he didn't that had made me the better choice for captain.

This time, there was no James to put his arm around me and comfort me as I cried. No James to tell me that I wasn't a failure and to help me realize that everything would be okay. No James to tell me that Tristan was a rotten tosser.

_James_…Oh Merlin, how would I ever face him now, knowing what I did?

"Eva?"

For one wild, hopeful moment, I thought that somehow James had appeared after all. I sat up, wiping the tears from my eyes. However, it wasn't James standing over me, but my dad.

"You look as though you need a hug," he said. I threw myself into his waiting arms.

"Is this about Tristan?" he asked when I had calmed down enough to speak properly instead of just gargling assorted words.

I pulled out of his hug and sat back down on the grass of the pitch, patting the spot beside me. Dad did as I suggested, settling into a cross legged position in front of me.

"A bit. I'm so upset with him I could…I could positively _spit nails_. But then after I had gone to see Tristan and we parted on bad terms, I ran into my old Quidditch captain."

Slowly and with several moments of sniffing, I told Dad about the conversation that Sean and I had had in Diagon Alley. When I finished, he looked furious.

"That foul git," he huffed angrily, his face a red and his jaw twitching a bit. "He's a rotten excuse for a Gryffindor."

"He is," I agreed with a watery chuckle. Dad always did hate a Quidditch injustice. It rankled him more than anything in the world, really.

"But you said that Sean told you that it was essentially a tie between you and James for who he should choose as captain?" he asked slowly.

I nodded, blinking back any more tears. I had spent quite enough time crying hysterically for today, thank you very much. I was turning into a regular old waterworks. How awful.

"Then that means he thought of you as captain material, Eva. He knew you were talented, hardworking, and dedicated. His end reasons for choosing you shows a serious lack of judgment, but if he hadn't thought that you'd be a good captain, he never would have considered you in the first place.

"And remember, Professor McGonagall has to agree to the captain's choice," he continued. "You're a brilliant captain. Watching you during your last match, I was so proud. Of course, there's always room for improvement – that foul when you flew into the scoring area for example- but your mum and I trained you well."

I had to laugh at that. My dad was a Quidditch captain to his core. Nothing short of perfection was good enough for him. I couldn't fault him for thinking that though. He had taught me to feel the same.

"You're right," I told him as I watched a bird fly up and perch itself on the top of the opposing center goalpost.

I was still the captain. No matter how I had been chosen for the position, the fact remained that I had been chosen. I was going to give our Gryffindor team everything I had. We had training to do, and we had a match against Ravenclaw to win.

But I still wasn't looking forward to coming face to face with James Potter.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

To my discomfort and annoyance, the subject of my going to dinner at Jonathan's house was a much talked about topic in the Wood home in the days preceding the event. Thanks to Gareth and Richard, Mum and Dad were now intensely curious about my boyfriend.

"So, what position does he play?" Dad asked innocently enough over dinner the night before I was supposed to visit Jonathan and his parents.

Oh, dear Merlin, not this again. I mean, it was natural of Dad to ask considering who he was, and who I was, and who the whole family was, but I was tired of having to explain Jonathan's preference for cricket.

"He doesn't," I answered tersely. I shot my brothers a stern glare that I futilely hoped would shut them up.

Dad's brow furrowed a bit, but he seemed undeterred. "Favorite team?"

"He doesn't like Quidditch," Richard supplied in a dark tone.

"He prefers cricket. He's mental," Gareth added, his face open and honest.

"Sorry?" Dad asked, clearly thinking he must have heard the twins incorrectly. Oh, here we go. This _would _be fun.

"Jonathan doesn't like Quidditch," I answered before one of my brothers could elaborate. "It's just not his thing."

Dad's fork stopped in midair on its way to his mouth. He looked as thunderstruck as though he had just been informed that the Ministry had permanently banned Quidditch.

"Everyone likes Quidditch. It's the sport of wizarding kind," he said matter-of-factly, as though that decided the matter.

Tell that to Jonathan and his cricket.

"Well, clearly Jonathan isn't everyone," my mum suggested. "People are allowed to have differing tastes, you know. Life would be rather boring if everyone liked all of the same things."

Dad frowned as he set down his fork and regarded me with a shrewd look. "How can you be going out with a boy that doesn't like Quidditch?"

"Oliver!" Mum interjected sharply.

"It's a logical question!" he shot back. He turned his attention back to me. "What do you two talk about?"

"I dunno…school stuff," I replied, not wanting to talk about my boyfriend to my dad of all people. "We study with Christine and Kieran a lot. He's incredibly clever and he's very kind."

"He sounds like a nice boy, Eva," Mum said as she passed Richard a dish of peas. "How did you meet him?"

"We're partners in Herbology. He's a very good essay proof-reader."

"I don't think that this boy is right for you, Eva," Dad told me. "It's one thing not to play Quidditch because of a lack of talent, but to not like it at all? It's _just not right_. It's not _normal_."

"Can't you just be like every other dad in the bleeding country and be upset that I'm going out with someone rather than be upset that he doesn't like Quidditch?" I cried. I felt thoroughly frustrated by the entire conversation.

Dad considered this as he pushed some peas around on his plate with his fork. "I'm not going to keep you from dating, Eva. But don't let it affect Quidditch. You've worked too hard to be distracted; you have a brilliant career ahead of you. Don't lose sight of what's important."

I leaned forward as I pushed back my chair. "I _know_ what's important to me. I'm going for a fly."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"I'm glad you could come," Jonathan told me as I stepped out of the fireplace of his parents' sitting room. He kissed me on the cheek and pulled me into a warm hug.

I looked around me at the spotless room. Everything was in its proper place in such a way that made it look rather unlived in. It looked like a picture straight out of an estate agent's brochure.

"How are you?" he asked, peering into my face, his eyes filled with worry. "You didn't say much about your brother in your letter. Are you all right?"

"I'm managing, I replied. "It's been difficult. After what happened between the two of us, he won't talk to anyone in the family now. He won't even answer Mum's owls. Of course, Dad's still incredibly angry. And so am I."

I hadn't told Jonathan about my encounter with Sean and the revelation about why I was the Gryffindor captain. It was just…I'd already burdened him with one Wood family Quidditch crisis this holiday. And truly, I wasn't certain that he could understand just what Sean's words had meant to me.

"I'm sorry that your holiday hasn't been as relaxing as you'd hoped," he offered me a small smile. "Mum and Dad are in the kitchen preparing dinner. I'll give you the grand tour."

"All right."

"This is the sitting room. Of course. When we have company, we sit in here and talk after dinner."

Something to look forward to, then.

All of the rooms in the house turned out to be just as freakishly tidy as the sitting room. These people apparently never left things lying about. Ever. It even _smelled _clean.

Jonathan's room was largely as I had imaged it would be. The room itself was painted a light, soothing blue. Besides his bedside table and bed, he had a large bookshelf filled with neatly ordered books, and a desk that had a lamp and a lone book resting on the surface. There were pictures of his family and his friends on the walls.

Neat as a pin. How strange. My mum and dad kept a relatively tidy house, but this level of clean was something different altogether.

I thought of my room at home with its Puddlemere United posters and Gryffindor pennants splashed across the gold colored walls. My bookshelf was a librarian's nightmare – absolutely nothing in it was organized. I almost never made my bed and there was usually a pile of laundry in front of the closet door.

"Is your house always this neat or did you tidy up just for me?"

"No, it's always this way." Jonathan seemed confused by my question. "We try to keep a well-ordered home."

I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Don't you ever leave dirty socks on the floor? Or have books out of place?"

He smiled and reached out to take my hands and pulled me in close, lacing our fingers together as he did so. "Of course I do. But I wasn't going to let my girlfriend see my bedroom looking like a pigsty."

"Be honest," I grinned, looking up into his green eyes, "You never leave dirty clothes just lying about."

"I do, sometimes," he protested before he pressed his lips against mine.

At Hogwarts, we were always careful to keep an eye out for fellow students; but here in the quiet of his bedroom, we didn't have to worry about that. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me longer and deeper than he ever had before.

"Jonathan?" his mum's voice called up the stairs. "Dinner is almost ready, dear."

"We'll be right down," he called to her as we broke a part from each other.

Jonathan led the way downstairs and as I followed him I stared at the back of his head. He had just kissed me. I mean, _kissed me_, kissed me. Clearly, Jonathan had enjoyed the kiss. I didn't need bloody fireworks, but shouldn't I have felt…I dunno, s_omething more_?

"Lovely to see you again, Eva, dear," Mrs. Grant said as we appeared. She shot Jonathan a sharp, knowing look.

Sweet Merlin, she knew that we were snogging up there. I'd heard that mothers could sense that sort of thing, but I'd never witnessed it before. Tristan had never brought one of his girlfriends home to meet mum and dad. It was a bit scary, to tell the truth.

"You too, Mrs. Grant," I told her. "Thank you for inviting me."

"You're very welcome, dear."

Mr. Grant was waiting for us in the dining room. "Miss Wood, it's nice to see you again," he greeted me as we took our seats at the table.

Jonathan's parents had cooked a traditional Cheshire pork pie served with black peas, potato wedges, and Cheshire cheese. If possible, the dining room was even more immaculate than the rest of the house.

"Thank you."

"It's Eva, am I correct?" he asked, pronouncing my name as Ee-vah.

"Actually, it's pronounced A-vah," I corrected Mr. Grant.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry."

This was ridiculous. I shouldn't have felt badly about telling someone the proper way to pronounce my name. I'd certainly had to set people straight about it, but I'd never felt guilty about it before.

I had written to Christine and told her that I was going to have dinner with Jonathan and his parents. She had replied that I should keep in mind that all first meetings with a boyfriend's parents were awkward. Only she never had to worry because Kieran's parents adored her and were warm and friendly people. Jonathan's on the other hand…well…yeah.

"Our Jonathan is very interested in magical being welfare," Mr. Grant said proudly as we began to eat. "He's already contacted the appropriate people in the Ministry about employment when he's finished at Hogwarts. They've assured him that there will be a place for him."

I turned toward Jonathan in surprise. "You didn't tell me that you'd heard back from the Ministry!"

His face flushed a light pink. I couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or excitement. "I only received the owl yesterday. I thought I would tell you in person."

"That's great!" I told him.

"It's a wonderful opportunity for your future career," Mrs. Grant chirped happily. "He's always made us incredibly proud," she added to me as an aside. "Prefect since fifth year and now Head Boy."

"So, Eva," Mr. Grant asked. "What's your field of study?"

"Just general studies," I explained easily. "My goal is to play Quidditch professionally. I hope to be signed to a team as a reserve at the end of next term and then work my way up from there."

"Oh." Mrs. Grant was clearly surprised by my answer. Apparently Jonathan didn't tell them anything much of substance about me. I wasn't certain how I felt about that.

No, wait. I knew exactly how I felt about that. And it wasn't happy.

"Isn't that a bit…well…_dangerous_?" Mrs. Grant asked me, peering at me as though I was a strange and exotic specimen that had somehow found its way into her spotless dining room.

"Yes," I allowed as I swallowed a bit of delicious pork pie. "But I love playing Quidditch. I have to accept that it comes with risks and be conscious of them."

"There's no other career you would consider?" Mrs. Grant asked slowly, as though she was still trying to fathom what I had just told them.

"None," I answered firmly, looking her directly in the face.

Mrs. Grant pursed her lips slightly. Then seemed to force herself to smile again. Her politeness was almost terrifying. But I was a Gryffindor and I wasn't going to let someone like her intimidate me.

"What subjects do you enjoy?" Mr. Grant questioned politely, apparently trying to steer the conversation aware from my inadequate career choice.

"I like Charms," I replied after a moment's thought. "It can be fun and dead useful. And Astronomy is very interesting, even though I'm pants at charting stars. My best friend is the only reason I do well in that class."

"How… interesting."

There was so much awkwardness in the room right now, I couldn't even handle it.

Unfortunately for me, the rest of the evening proceeded along the same lines as dinner. I had to hear again (and again) how proud Mr. and Mrs. Grant were of Jonathan and how pleased they were about his future career and his having a solid job lined up right out of Hogwarts. I got the distinct impression that they viewed Jonathan's career choice as a "real job." Mrs. Grant kept referring to Quidditch as a "game."

"Quidditch isn't just a game," I told them after the fifth time this happened. "It's so much more than that – it involves physical strength and fitness, agility of the mind and body, and a keen understanding of strategy. I have to keep up with the latest training methods, plays, and equipment. I spend loads of time creating plays and helping my team to train and improve. It's quite a lot of work."

"That's nice, dear," was Mrs. Grant's reply.

Needless to say, by the end of the evening I was in a bit of a sour mood.

"Don't mind them," Jonathan told me as he said goodbye to me in the sitting room in front of the fireplace. His parents had seemed rather unwilling to leave us alone but in the end had slowly left to finish some washing up in the kitchen.

"They hate me."

"No, they don't. They just don't understand your career choice. It's no different from me not understanding."

No, I was quite certain they hated me. Or at least hated me with Jonathan.

"_I love to play_," I insisted. "It's all I've ever wanted to do."

"I know." He gave me a small smile before kissing me.

Back home in my room at home I flopped onto my bed, pulled a pillow over my head, and screamed.

Worst. Christmas. Holiday. Ever.

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* * *

><p>Congratulations to rednose for correctly guessing who Eva was going to into in Diagon Alley! Sorry to those of you who thought it would be James. But I <em>promise<em> that he'll be back next chapter!

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**Note:** A few people left me very lovely reviews, but didn't sign in/don't have an account so I couldn't respond to their questions. If you turn on your private messaging feature, I'll be able to reply to you in future. If you are one of those people that had a question that I was not able to respond to, please see my profile because I have answered your question there!

**Next chapter:** Eva meets Jonathan's friends, Sorcha is nosy, James really wants to talk to Eva, and someone actually gets punched in the face. Curious? I hope so! :)

**And some other exciting news** - I've written a prequel oneshot to "Game On" that takes place in James and Eva's sixth year. The title will be **"All Sorts of Wrong"** – so look for that within the next couple of weeks!


	18. So Incredibly Guilty

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter Eighteen: So Incredibly Guilty**_

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I waved one last time to my parents as the Hogwarts Express began to move. I saw Dad mouth the words, "Keep your elbows tucked in!" Mum gave him a pointed look, but kissed him on the cheek all the same.

"Eva!" Christine barreled into me, hugging me. "How are you? Is everything okay? You sounded so upset in your letters!"

I glanced around at all of the students nearby and told her, "Let's go find a compartment. Where's Kieran?" I added.

As she glanced away from me, her cheeks turned a light rose color. "With his friends. I wanted to talk to you. About something that concerns him."

"Did you two break up?" I asked, completely floored at the very idea.

A few heads turned in my direction. Whoops, apparently I'd said that a bit too loudly.

"_No!_" Christine cried, putting my fears to rest. "Just…I'll tell you in a minute."

Oh, what a relief!

Once we'd found our own compartment, she pulled the door closed and hurriedly turned to face me.

"When we visited each other to exchange gifts, Kieran told me that he loved me," she said with a shy smile playing on her small mouth.

"Christine, that's brilliant!" I said happily. "Did you say it back?"

She nodded, her short brown hair falling into her eyes. Reaching up, she pushed her hair away from her face. "I always thought that we were too young, you know? But…I know what I feel. I love him."

"Of course you do. You two are perfect for each other," I agreed, grinning in happiness for my best friend. For all of my lack of observation skills, even I could see that Christine and Kieran were wonderful together. Granted it took me a while, but that's not important. The point is that I saw it.

My comment made Christine blush, but she didn't deny it.

"Speaking of boyfriends," she said lightly with a playful smirk, "how was dinner with Jonathan and his parents?"

I dropped my face into my hands. "Bloody _horrible._ They think I'm awful."

"It can't have been _that _terrible," she soothed, sitting down next to me on the seat. "Who could think you're awful?"

"No, I'm quite sure that his parents think I'm unsuitable because I want to play Quidditch professionally. Merlin, you should have heard them…dinner was bad enough, but after dinner…ugh. I mean, it's bad enough that when I'm with Jonathan I feel as though he doesn't understand my life and that I don't have interests outside of Quidditch - but at least he never makes me feel _guilty_ for it."

"Oh, Eva," Christine wrapped her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder in friendly affection and sympathy.

"It was such a _horrible holiday_," I moaned in misery. "Everything was just _wrong._ Especially everything with Tristan…I'm so glad we're going back to Hogwarts. Oh! I almost forgot! Happy Birthday a day late! Did Waffle get your present to you?"

"Yes, thank you for the magical archeology book, it looks fascinating!"

The compartment door slid open with a faint squeak. "Oh, am I interrupting? I can come back later," Jonathan stood in the doorway looking distinctly awkward. Behind him stood two boys and a girl wearing Hufflepuff robes.

"No, no," Christine told him, letting me go. "Just girl stuff."

Really? That's what she comes up with? I wanted them to go away.

"I wanted you to meet my friends," Jonathan told me as he and the group of people settled themselves in our compartment. Christine moved over so that Jonathan was sitting between us, and his friends sat on the opposite seat. Both boys were blonde, but one was much taller than the other and the shorter one had intense blue eyes. The girl was shorter than average height and a bit on the plump side with a bright and ready smile.

I had honestly never noticed that I had never met my boyfriend's mates before. I mean, I knew that they existed and I had heard about them, but it never occurred to me to actually meet them.

I was a terrible person, wasn't I?

"Eva, this is Max," he pointed to the tall, blonde boy across from me. "Aristotle," he pointed to the boy in the middle with icy blue eyes and blonde hair, "and Judith," he said finally, motioning to the smiling girl.

"Hello!" Judith said in a bubbly tone of voice. "It's very nice to finally meet you Eva, we've heard so much about you!"

"It's nice to meet you too," I told them with a small wave of my right hand.

"And this is Christine," Jonathan added. "She's the Head Girl and Eva's friend."

"Best friend," I added for good measure as Christine smiled and said hello to the group of Hufflepuffs.

There was a brief silence, then Christine spoke up. "We all have Transfiguration together, don't we?"

"Yes, we do," Judith immediately piped up. "Although I don't much care for that class. I've always been complete rubbish at it. Jonathan and Max are the only reason that I manage to scrape acceptable marks in that lesson."

I laughed as I agreed, "Jonathan is the only reason that I'm doing well in Herbology. I let him do most of the work."

"Jonathan's just brilliant at everything he does," Judith said, genuine affection filling her voice.

Jonathan turned a faint pink color. I've never met anyone who blushes so much in my life. I really should start keeping a tally. Also, Judith's statement was totally false. I was quite certain that Jonathan would be dead terrible at Quidditch if he ever tried it.

"What about me?" Max demanded with a teasing grin. "I'm quite brilliant at everything I do as well, I'm certain."

"You're a regular magician, Max" Jonathan said with a hint of a smile.

"Of course you're brilliant," Judith assured him, reaching over to tenderly pat him on the arm.

"How did you end up being friends with three blokes?" I asked Judith. I hoped that I didn't sound rude asking that; I was just curious.

"I met Jonathan on the boat ride here in first year. I couldn't swim and was afraid of the water, but he assured me that he wouldn't let me fall in. We've been friends ever since."

"We all live in the same dormitory and have similar interests," Max shrugged with a grin, motioning to Jonathan and Aristotle. "Things like friendship are always facilitated by proximity. But it doesn't hurt that we get on quite well."

"Christine and I are friends of necessity," I joked. "The first night in Gryffindor Tower it became apparent that we were the only sane ones in that room and that we needed to stick together."

"The other seventh year girls are Roxanne Weasley, Gemma Finnegan, and Sorcha Patterson, yeah?" Judith inquired curiously. "You're not friends with them?"

"I'd consider myself casual friends with Roxanne, now" I said.

"Roxanne has mellowed out a lot," Christine clarified, her mouth quirking up in a smile.

"She used to be more…energetic. But I like her well enough."

"Gemma's not so bad when she's not setting the dormitory on fire," I added. "But Sorcha is completely off her rocker."

"But she's so nice!" Judith exclaimed, evidently surprised by my negative assessment of Sorcha.

"She's obsessed with my dad," I explained. "She has pictures of him all over the wall above her bed. She also likes to ask questions about him."

I suppressed a shudder at the mere thought.

Judith looked slightly puzzled. "She just fancies Oliver Wood a bit. I don't see the harm in that. She's an appreciative fan, that's all."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christine struggling to hold in laughter. She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and held it against her face, pretending the blow her nose.

"But he's my _dad_," I stressed heavily "It's _creepy_. Not to mention awkward."

Judith shrugged, clearly not convinced. "Oh, it's harmless."

Ha, that's what she thinks. I'm not convinced that someday Sorcha isn't going to go completely round the bend and do something well and truly mental. Like, the kind of mental that would earn her a restraining order. Or a trip to St. Mungo's.

Just as I was about to protest that this was not the case at all, the compartment door slid open to reveal James Potter.

He was sporting a red jumper with a large J on the front. Roxanne had once informed me that they were called Weasley jumpers and that their Nana Molly knitted one for everyone in the family every year. I found it oddly touching that he was willing to wear his jumper in public. Roxanne kept hers in the bottom of her trunk and only pulled it out on especially cold winter nights.

"Hi, Eva, Christine," James said, glancing around the compartment and taking in its occupants. "Everyone."

I noticed that he'd had his hair trimmed over the holiday. You could see his soft brown eyes more clearly now. It looked good on him. More than good, really.

"Jonathan Grant," Jonathan told James, standing up and politely extending his hand.

James glanced at the proffered hand for a split second before he clasped it firmly. "James Potter."

"Eva, can I talk to you for a minute?" James asked me suddenly.

Panic rose up in me at the thought of being alone with James after what I had learned from Sean. I didn't want to see him right now. Not until I could act as though nothing was wrong. Which basically meant that I had to avoid him for the rest of the term.

"Can it wait?" I asked. "I'm busy right now."

James looked taken aback by my answer. "Yeah, of course," he answered, voice filled with confusion. "I'll see you around."

After he had left, Christine shot me a look that clearly said that we'd talk about this later. Oh bugger.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"So what's going on?" Christine demanded the moment we were safely in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory. James had tried to flag me down after dinner, but I used the confusion of the crowd leaving the Great Hall to escape him.

Around us, Sorcha, Gemma, and Roxanne were unpacking their trunks. They were chatting among themselves about their respective Christmas holidays and didn't seem to be listening, but just in case, I pulled Christine over to my four poster.

"I ran into Sean O'Mara in Diagon Alley after I went to visit Tristan," I told her in as quiet of a whisper as I could manage.

"_Who_?" she whispered back, her face screwed up in confusion.

I glanced at the other girls, but thankfully they were paying us no mind.

"He was Quidditch captain before me," I explained with some exasperation. "The one who chose me as captain."

"Oh. Well, what happened?"

I bit my lip as I paused, hesitant to say the words. The only person that I told about my conversation with Sean was Dad. Of course, Dad had told Mum, but no one else knew. It had been difficult enough to tell Dad.

"He…told me that he only chose me as captain because he used to fancy me. And also because he and James never got on and Sean didn't want to give the captaincy to someone he didn't like."

Christine stared at me with wide eyes. "He _told _you that? What a tosser!"

My sentiments, exactly. Cheers, Christine.

"Well…James said something ages ago…he said that Sean fancied me and said that I had only been given the post because I was snogging Sean. I never snogged Sean, but ever since, there's been a little niggling doubt in my mind. So I asked Sean how he had chosen the next captain, and that's what he told me. I think maybe he was trying to be flattering – hard to tell – but yeah."

Christine sat back and gave a heavy sigh. "Well, that would explain why you wouldn't want to talk to James."

"I can't face him," I admitted softly. "Knowing that in an either-or competition, I won because Sean fancied me. I think James just said it because –" I stopped midsentence as a horrible thought occurred to me. "_Oh, Merlin_! Do you think he knows?"

"Knows what?" Sorcha asked, eyeing me strangely.

Holy Hippogriffs, I had practically yelled that last bit, hadn't I? Looking up, I saw that the other three girls were giving me curious looks.

"Who knows what?" Gemma asked, apparently unable to hold back her curiosity any longer.

"Um…" I searched my mind. "Jonathan. Yeah. What I'm going to give him. For St. Valentine's Day."

Gemma and Roxanne didn't look convinced but Sorcha squealed happily. "Oooh, what are you going to give him? Something romantic? To show him that you love him?"

Love him? _Love Jonathan?_

"_No_!" I cried, in protest. "Of course I don't love him!"

For some unfathomable reason, Roxanne looked practically gleeful and Gemma was scowling.

"Why not?" Sorcha asked in simple confusion.

_Why not_? Holy Hippogriffs, there were loads and loads of reasons why not!

"Well, for starters, we really haven't been going out that long," I replied, trying not to fly off the handle. Or throw myself out of a window. Either option was possible right now.

"That's no indicator," Sorcha laughed as she dismissed my protests. She took a jumper out of her trunk and hung it up inside her wardrobe. "What do you like about him?"

"He can be funny, he's intelligent, loyal…he's nice," I answered. Bloody hell _– nice_? I realized in that moment that I was forever describing Jonathan as nice. He was a nice bloke. Nice, nice, nice. And intelligent? Loyal? I sounded as though I was describing some family pet rather than my boyfriend.

"So…he's nice, but you don't love him."

Yeah, that summed it up quite nicely. Now could we please end this travesty of a conversation?

"Do you think you'll stay together after Hogwarts?"

"I-I dunno," I stammered, thrown off guard by her bold question.

I had honestly never given any thought to a future with Jonathan. He and I, we…we just _were_. We studied together, went to Hogsmeade together, sat next to each other in Herbology, and chatted before Transfiguration. I had never thought of things being different than they were now.

But the reality was that once we finished at Hogwarts, things would be very different. Hopefully I would receive offers to join a league reserve team (preferably Puddlemere) and Jonathan would go off to his work at the Ministry. Sweet Merlin, Dad was right. What would we talk about when we no longer had lessons in common?

Sorcha took a Quidditch magazine out of her trunk. My stomach fell with an uncomfortable jolt as I saw my older brother's face splashed across the cover with the large, bold words "Oliver Wood's Son Joins Tornados."

"Oh, sorry! I didn't want you to have to see that!" Sorcha hastily shoved the magazine in the drawer of her bedside table and slammed it shut. The force caused the lamp to teeter precariously, but Roxanne caught it just before it fell off.

"It's not exactly as though she didn't know anything at all about it before now," Gemma commented dryly as she folded a pair of socks and shoved them into a drawer in her wardrobe.

I couldn't tell if Gemma was still cross with me or not. Though why she was so cross with me to begin with only she knew. And Sorcha. And probably Roxanne. Oh whatever, everyone probably knew except me. I couldn't tell if she and Sorcha were back on good terms though. It was difficult to say.

Sorcha was still looking at me with anxious eyes. "I was so distressed to hear about your dad's plight. How are you coping? How is your dad coping? I'm certain it was terrible for him."

It was. And it was made worse by nosy people like Sorcha trying to pry into my life. And all because she fancied my father. Ugh.

"Sorcha," I told her firmly, trying not to grit my teeth in the process, "It _was _terrible. And I really don't want to talk about it."

"I understand," she came closer and patted me on the arm, much like a grandmother. "But I'm here if you need to talk to someone."

Ha, fat chance of that. I had Christine or my brothers for that, thank you very much.

"Thanks," I told her. I don't think I managed to keep the sarcasm from my voice.

As I unpacked the contents of my truck, my thoughts drifted back to my earlier thoughts - if James knew Sean's reasons for choosing me as captain. As I folded clothes and stacked books, I debated back and forth over whether or not James knew. In the end, rationality won out and I decided that James didn't know. Although he had commented that Sean had fancied me, he had accused me snogging Sean to get the position of captain. James had been angry when he had said those things – he had admitted to me that he could be a sore loser.

The horrible part was that I hadn't even needed to snog Sean for him to name me captain. He had fancied me and wanted to make James's life miserable – two birds with one stone.

Merlin, what a git.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I ducked into the Arithmancy classroom just moments before the lesson began, ensuring that James wouldn't have the opportunity to talk to me. I thought it was a brilliant plan, but James Potter was not to be dissuaded by mere things like a professor lecturing.

As soon as Professor Vector began talking, James leaned over in his seat and whispered my name. I vaguely registered that he smelled nice before pushing the ridiculous thought out of my mind and reminding myself that I was avoiding him.

"I'm _trying_ to take notes," I whispered back keeping my eyes intently on my parchment.

Naturally, he was undeterred. "I want to talk to you."

I dipped my quill into my ink pot and continued writing. "I'm a little busy right now, James."

"Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not!" I hissed.

Lies, lies, lies. But he didn't need to know that.

"Seems like you are."

"I'm trying to take notes!"

Professor Vector broke off from her lecture and fixed me and James with a warning glare. "Less chatter, Mr. Potter, Miss Wood. Attend to your notes."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Christopher and Fred silently laughing into their parchment.

There were a few moments of silence in which I thought that James must have given up, because he appeared to be diligently taking notes like everyone else. I really should have known better than to assume something like that. You'd really think I'd have learned by now.

The piece of parchment that I thought James was writing notes on was pushed in front of me. Reaching over with my left hand, I pushed it back in his direction without so much as looking at it. Five seconds later it was back in front of me.

Sighing, I finally glanced down at the parchment.

_**Eva - **_

_**What's wrong?**_

I turned my head slightly and glared at him, then resumed my note taking endeavors. Fred snickered loudly but turned it into a hacking cough when James elbowed him sharply in the side. Professor Vector looked up and narrowed her eyes, but resumed her lecture.

James reached over and pulled the parchment so that it was between us on the desk. He hastily scribbled something then motioned to it with his quill.

_**Come on –I just want to talk to you.**_

Oh, fine. Abandoning my note taking, I wrote, _You're going to make me fail Arithmancy!_

_**Am not**._

Fred leaned over to read what James and I were writing. He grinned and shook his head.

_James, don't you have notes to be taking? _

He smirked as he read it and replied, _**No, I'll just borrow Christopher's. **_

I raised an eyebrow and wrote, _Well, I'm going to need to borrow them too at this rate. _

_**I'll only let you borrow them if you talk to me.**_

_They're Christopher's notes, you don't decide who borrows them._

_**He's my mate. Do you really think he's going to lend them to you if I tell him not to?**_

_That's awfully rude, and unlike you, Christopher is not a rude bloke. He wouldn't allow me to go without notes._

_**What do you mean rude? I'm not rude.**_

_What else do you call purposefully withholding notes? _

_**Providing an incentive for you to talk to me.**_

_That's a really crap incentive, you know._

_**Will you just talk to me already?**_

_What do you call this, then?_

_**This is quibbling.**_

_Quibbling? Really?_

_**Yes, really. **_

Despite my annoyance, I found myself smiling slightly at the banter taking forth between the pair of us.

_Has anyone ever told you that you're ridiculous?_

_**Loads of times. **_

_And incorrigible. _

_**I hear that from my mum a lot. And Aunt Hermione. Pretty much all of my aunts. And the professors. **_

_Shocking. I never would have guessed that. _

_**Fred hears it more than I do.**_

_That I can easily imagine._

_**So are you going to talk to me now?**_

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat loudly and, startled, I jumped in my seat. I noticed that James started as well. I was glad I wasn't the only one that almost suffered a minor heart attack. Looking up, I saw that Professor Vector was standing in front of our desk.

Her dark eyes shrewdly glanced between the pair of us. Then with a quick movement, she reached out and grasped the parchment sitting between me and James that held our written conversation. Her eyes quickly scrutinized the page, and then she slowly folded the parchment and set it back down on the desk.

"Detention, the both of you," she told us in clipped tones. "And you had best pay attention for the duration of the lesson instead of writing each other silly love notes."

Oh, Holy Hippogriffs. Please tell me that she did not just say that out loud in front of the entire classroom. But from a subtle glance around the room, it was clear that everyone now thought that James and I had been writing love notes to each other. Brilliant. _Just _what I needed.

As Professor Vector swept off to the front of the classroom, I turned and glared at James. In response, he merely offered me a shrug and a smirk. Next to him, Fred was sitting with his head resting on his desk as he tried to muffle the sound of his laughter.

"You can borrow my notes," Christopher whispered kindly.

The moment that Professor Vector dismissed us, I shot out of my seat and made a beeline for the door.

I heard James call out, "Eva! Wait!"

"Let her alone," Christopher advised him.

I skillfully dodged around two Ravenclaws (Quidditch skills come in handy on the ground too) as I rounded a corner and made my grand escape. Be gone, James Potter. I did not want to talk to you. Not right now when I felt so incredibly guilty.

I had almost made it to the doors that led outside to the green houses when I turned a corner and found myself directly in the path of Lyra Rinaldi and Scorpius Malfoy. Oh, ack. Seriously, of all the rotten luck. I had never run into them on my way to Herbology before.

The two of them didn't notice me at first. Lyra was too busy flipping her long, black hair over her shoulder and talking to Scorpius to notice me. Scorpius didn't look particularly happy, though whether it was from the company or the topic of conversation, I couldn't tell. He was the first to notice me, and his eyes flicked briefly over to Lyra.

"Eva Wood," she said in her usual caustic tone as she noticed me.

"Lyra Rinaldi," I replied tersely. I was going to walk past them, but then Lyra decided to open her big mouth. And being the proper Gryffindor that I was, I couldn't just stand there and not do anything.

"I read all about your brother in the papers."

"So you can read. Cheers," I deadpanned.

Lyra screwed up her face in disdain, but Scorpius looked faintly amused.

"You know, perhaps I was wrong about Tristan. I really haven't been giving him enough credit. Good job him for doing what he wants instead of what's expected of him. Your family must be _so disappointed _that's he's ditched Puddlemere."

I was about to open my mouth to reply when to my intense surprise, Scorpius spoke up in an amused drawl. "Do you really want to delve into the subject of family approval and judgment, Rinaldi?"

Lyra swiveled to stare at her fellow Slytherin. If I didn't know better, I would say that she looked hurt. Then she turned back to me, her black eyes fierce and glinting in the light streaming in through the nearest window.

"From what I hear from my cousin, Elena, your entire family isn't speaking to him," Rinaldi said with an air of superiority. "How tragic. Poor Tristan – clearly he was sorted into the wrong house. He would have made an excellent Slytherin. Much better than a loser Gryffindor like the rest of your pathetic family."

I didn't even think about drawing my wand to hex her. I just pulled back my arm and let it fly towards her face with as much force as I could muster. Scorpius didn't even try to stop me. If anything, he stepped out of the way and gave me a clearer target.

It hurt my hand. A lot. But it was completely worth it. It was also worth the week's worth of detentions and fifty points from Gryffindor that it earned me. Completely and totally worth it.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! Glad to see Rinaldi get punched in the face? I know it made me smile to write it! What did you think of Jonathan's friends? Glad to see James back? :)

**Next chapter:** Lyra and Scorpius are discussed, James finally corners Eva, and Al and Gareth intentionally cause a bit of trouble.


	19. Talking to James

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_**Chapter Nineteen: Talking to James**_

**A/N:** I'm so sorry for the long wait, everyone! I spent a very long time waffling back and forth over whether or not to include a specific scene. In the end I kept it. But in good news – this chapter is quite a bit longer than usual. I hope that maybe the chapter length at least somewhat makes up for the wait.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"_You what_?" Christine asked, a mixed expression of horror and amusement gracing her face.

"You heard me," I said, trying not to smile. I really shouldn't have been smiling about this. "I punched Lyra Rinaldi in the face."

"You're always joking that you'll punch people in the face but I never thought you'd _actually do it_," Christine marveled.

"I didn't ever _intend_ to," I defended myself as I looked down at my right hand.

Christine reached out and grabbed my hand and pulled it towards her, examining the sore, red knuckles. It wasn't much in the way of injuries but it didn't exactly feel good either.

"I think I might still have some of that healing salve," Christine said as she dropped my hand. She opened the bottom cabinet of her bedside table and after a brief moment popped back up with a small jar clutched in her hand. "Knew I had it in there somewhere!"

"Thanks," I said, gratefully accepting the jar. I had never formed the habit of keeping some in the dormitory. Poor idea, that.

"So what kind of damage did you do to Rinaldi?" Christine asked curiously, as she settled down on the edge of my bed.

"I reckon I broke her nose," I replied, applying the salve to my knuckles. The cream had an instant cooling effect on my reddened skin. Much better. "There was a lot of blood."

Christine winced and put a hand to her own nose.

I screwed the lid back on the jar and handed it to Christine. "I'm not sorry. Maybe I should be considering I have a week's worth of detention, I lost Gryffindor fifty points, and I got the lecture of my life from Professor Longbottom. But I'm not."

"Despite my Head Girl status, I didn't expect you to be. Although you did just make more paperwork for me."

"She insulted Tristan, she insulted my family. It's different when it's aimed at me. She and I have said some pretty nasty stuff to each other in the past. But brining my family into it crosses a line."

"What will your parents say? Your brothers _are_ going to write home and tell them, you know."

I grinned. I wouldn't be surprised if Gareth had already posted the letter. When I walked into the common room, he and Richard had hugged me and told me that I had given "that bint what she deserved."

"Well, Longbottom's writing to them anyway. Apparently the school is obligated to tell your parents when you've been fighting. Mum will be horrified but Dad will be all right if it was in defense of the family or Quidditch. Which it was. And you know…the really wonky part was that Rinaldi wasn't alone when I punched her. She was walking with Malfoy."

Christine's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why is that wonky?"

"I was on my way to Herbology when it happened, so when Rinaldi screamed, Professor Longbottom came running. And Malfoy told him that it wasn't entirely my fault; that I'd been provoked and told him what Lyra had said to me."

"Scorpius _defended you_? Against his Quidditch captain?"

I nodded, still feeling rather confused about the incident myself. "I haven't a clue why, though."

It was a question that had been bothering me since it had happened. Why had Scorpius Malfoy defended my actions against his fellow Slytherin and teammate?"

"Maybe he fancies you?" she suggested with a straight face, but then burst out laughing at the very thought.

I raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Doubtful. A member of the Slytherin Quidditch team and a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team…I don't see that happening."

"The two houses do mix a lot more than they did when our parents were at Hogwarts. But I suppose he just must _really_ not like Lyra," Christine surmised.

Who could blame him?

"Did you know that Elena – Tristan's sodding perfect girlfriend – is Rinaldi's cousin?" I said suddenly as I remembered what Rinaldi had said right before I'd punched her. "Ugh. No wonder I couldn't stand Elena."

Christine made a face. "Hopefully Tristan doesn't stay with her. For multiple reasons, really. But imagine if they ever got married – you'd be related to Rinaldi, even if it wasn't directly."

"Don't make me vomit," I replied flopping backwards on to my bed.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Did you really punch Lyra Rinaldi _in the_ _face_?" Zara asked the exact minute she walked in through the doors of the Quidditch locker rooms. She looked as happy as I'd ever seen her. It was difficult to blame her; Rinaldi being punched _was_ quite brilliant.

"Yes, I did," I confirmed. "She had a go at my family, so I took a swing at her face."

Across the room, Richard smiled at me with affection from where he was chatting with Lily. Nico offered me a thumbs up and Bree looked apprehensive. James was watching me with a most disconcerting expression, eyebrow raised and a smirk plastered on his face.

"Good job, you!" Zara offered me a high five. I rolled my eyes slightly, but slapped my hand against hers all the same.

"I was in the hospital wing for a cold tonic when Malfoy brought her in. Her nose was gushing blood!" Nico exclaimed with a great deal of relish. "And guess what? Malfoy made sure that Madam Pomfrey had everything under control _and then he left_. He just said that he'd see her around and then he left like he didn't care about her at all. Isn't that strange? They play Quidditch together."

"I always thought that they were dating," Bree mused as she tightened the strap on her right arm guard. "But it doesn't sound like that's the case at all. He can certainly do better than Rinaldi, He's _fit_."

"He really is," Lily nodded, earning her an extremely stern and slightly frightening glare from James.

Richard scowled and Nico wrinkled his nose in extreme distaste. "Why do so many girls find Malfoy so attractive?"

"Tall, fair skin, white blond hair, broad shoulders, quiet type, intelligent, good at Quidditch –need I go on?" Bree asked in a tone that clearly said Nico was daft for having posed such a question.

Nico didn't look convinced by Bree's assessment of Malfoy's attributes. In fact, he looked rather upset. Probably because Bree had led off her description with a reference to Malfoy's height and Nico was always a bit touchy about his own short stature. Now that I thought of it, Bree was the only person on the team who was shorter.

"He's still a _Slytherin_," Zara commented with an air of disgust.

Exasperated, I threw my arms out wide. "Are we going to practice Quidditch or stand here all day gossiping about Malfoy?"

"Practice," James said decidedly, shouldering his broom and swiftly heading to the door.

"I'm glad someone else is interested in practicing," I said, gratefully.

I had skipped my morning run around the Quidditch pitch in the interest of avoiding James, so I made the team run fifteen laps around the pitch before we ran drills and then broke into groups to focus on specific plays.

Gemma and Sorcha had come to watch practice. Apparently Gemma's pursuit of James wasn't over. She cheered loudly as he practiced his dives. I felt strangely tempted to throw a Quaffle at her face, but held myself in check.

Also joining Gemma and Sorcha in the stands was a group of giggling sixth year girls that Nico kept trying to impress until Zara hit a Bludger at him, nearly causing him to fall off of his broom. He paid much more attention to drills after that. I mentally applauded Zara.

Practice was different now that I knew why I was the captain instead of James. Dad had been correct when he said that the fact that James and I had been tied in terms of skill and ability to lead the team meant something, but I couldn't entirely push away my feelings of guilt.

After practice, Lily corned me in the changing area as I was pulling off my sweat-soaked kit.

"Exactly how long do you think you can avoid James?"

Bugger. Why must everyone else be so perceptive? It put me at a very unfair disadvantage in life.

"Why are you avoiding him anyway?" she probed curiously. The corners of her mouth were twitching upwards as if she was trying not to smile. Perhaps a less oblivious person would have understood that.

"Because he's a nosy git," I answered and closed my locker door with a sharp snap. It wasn't the whole story, but it was true enough in essence. He _was _a nosy git.

Lily made a sound of amusement. "You won't get any arguments from me there. I have to spend summers in the same house as him. And Eva…?" she asked hesitantly.

I glanced up at her.

"Just…" she thought for a moment, then said, "He really wants to talk to you."

I purposefully took extra long in the shower so that James would be gone by the time I left. I peeked out into the common area and when I saw no sign of him or anyone else on the team, I went to make my escape.

I didn't make it further than ten metres outside the locker rooms when I heard, "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave."

Spinning on my heel, I saw James leaning up against the wall behind the door to the locker rooms with his arms crossed. Hiding behind the door – how sneaky.

"What are you implying?" I snapped, even though I knew full well what he meant. I was a Gryffindor at heart after all; I couldn't just stand there and let him insult me.

"You've been avoiding me. Not exactly very brave of you, you know."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and turned to walk away. "And you've never avoided me before when I was trying to talk to you."

He ignored my sarcastic comment completely. "Why have you been avoiding me? I haven't done anything to you this time," James cried angrily, following close behind me.

"I'm not avoiding you, I'm just busy," I hotly replied in a boldfaced lie as I continued walking.

"Like hell you aren't," James spat, reaching out and grabbing my arm, forcing me to spin and face him. The motion caused my hair to blow into my face and I impatiently pushed it out of the way.

"Don't touch me, Potter!" I lashed out verbally, eyes narrowed.

He let go of me immediately, looking a bit ashamed of himself for manhandling me.

"Since when am I Potter?" His voice had shifted from its earlier harsh anger and was now softer with an edge of hurt.

I sighed, feeling badly for treating my mate so poorly, and said in a kinder voice, "James, then."

He looked into my face carefully, scrutinizing whatever he saw there. "What's wrong?"

I was so weary of avoiding him. He was relentless. And besides…I didn't really _want _to avoid him. I just felt so guilty about what Sean had told me. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I know you're upset about Tristan - you can talk to me, you know. The others – Christine, Kieran…your boyfriend – they can sympathize. But I can _understand_."

"I know, James," I sighed heavily and briefly closed my eyes.

I did know. That was the truth. I _wanted_ to talk to James about Tristan. Hadn't I thought as much when I was lying on the ground crying at home after my return from Diagon Alley? I had wanted James to be there for me just as he had been after the Slytherin match.

"I've been _worried _about you," he told me in a slightly strangled voice. "When I read about what had happened in the _Prophet_, I thought about writing to you but I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk about it and I wasn't sure if you'd want to hear from me…I even thought about coming over to your house, but I didn't want to intrude on your family."

My chest tightened a bit at the knowledge that James had wanted to make certain that I was okay…that he had been worried for me. I didn't know why, but it made me happy, knowing that he cared enough to be so genuinely concerned about me. It…it was _sweet._

"Let's walk and talk. It's freezing out here," I decided, drawing my cloak closer about me. I wasn't about to tell James about my conversation with Sean, but I could tell him about everything that had happened with Tristan. I had told the bloke shortly before the holiday that we were friends, and look how I had been treating him when he was just worried about me. And he was worried about me _because_ we were friends.

"Well, you know the story from the papers," I began. "Dad was furious. Naturally. We all were. Mum seemed to take it a little better than the rest of us."

James nodded in understanding, but said nothing. We kept walking, the castle slowly growing closer.

"Outside of my family and Christine, no one seems to understand why I'm so upset that Tristan left Puddlemere… It's what he and I always wanted. We talked about it all the time – how we were both going to sign with Puddlemere and be this unstoppable team. He's my older brother…I looked up to him. Playing for Puddlemere is what we'd always dreamed of. It's just hard to accept that for him that dream has changed when for me, it hasn't."

It felt good to tell James everything that I had been thinking about for the past few weeks. James had been correct - he could understand as no one else could. It wasn't necessarily that he understood better, but that he understood differently.

"That can still be _your _dream, Eva," James reassured me softly. "That doesn't have to change."

"I know…" I muttered. "But it won't be the same without Tristan. Dad wouldn't let him come home for Christmas, so I went to visit him. Richard and Gareth refused to come with me. I found out…Tristan is living with Elena Hodges – "

"Elena Hodges? Her dad owns the Tornados, yeah? Used to play for Slytherin?"

"Exactly," I huffed, anger bubbling inside me at the memory of my visit. "Tristan was unhappy being a reserve for Puddlemere. He thought his talent was wasted as a reserve. He wanted so much to play, to be famous, to be a star. And then Elena came along and helped convince him that he'd be much better off with the Tornados. He told Dad that he was leaving Puddlemere during a practice! It was just so…so _underhanded_."

I realized with some surprise that James was a good listener. I felt the words and anger flowing easily from me. We were at the front doors of the castle now. James reached out and pulled open the door on the left and motioned for me to walk in first. Probably a habit of Gryffindor chivalry.

"You know what the worst part is?" I asked him as we stopped in the entrance hall. "Tristan didn't even seem sorry. He kept waffling on about his talent being put to use. It just struck me as very…it sounded as though all he cared about was being famous, being a Quidditch star."

"You _don't _want to be a famous Quidditch star? That doesn't seem likely," James smirked slightly.

I smiled broadly. "All right, I _do_ love hearing my name announced as captain."

James scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and I belatedly realized how that must sound to him. It also brought Sean's words immediately back to the front of my mind. I shoved them back and vowed not to think about it.

"But," I hastily added. "I've seen my dad have to deal with his fame and it can be nothing but trouble. Look at what happened with Tristan – the papers are making a bigger deal of the entire matter because Dad is famous. Mum and Dad taught me to love Quidditch for its own sake rather than for any reward."

"Your parents sound a lot like mine. How they deal with fame, I mean."

I threw him a look. "I'll bet your dad didn't make you wake up every day at 6am to practice Quidditch. Not that I minded, of course. Sometimes I even beat him out to the pitch."

"No, he didn't," James agreed with a laugh. "I did that on my own. But my dad did make me practice defense against the dark arts over the summer holidays. I could produce a Patronus when I was thirteen."

"Thirteen?" I echoed, stunned. I had only managed to cast a proper Patronus this past autumn in lessons.

He sent me a knowing smirk. "I told you there was a lot you didn't know about me."

I thought back, but nothing came to mind. Not surprising. "When was that?"

He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. It was now standing up at all angles, even more so than usual. It made him look as though he had just been flying. Which, I supposed we had been.

"Don't remember specifically."

We both seemed to realize that we were standing chatting in the entrance hall instead of eating breakfast. My stomach rumbled slightly. I really hoped that he hadn't heard my stomach making noises.

"You sound hungry."

Well, so much for that. Ugh.

James turned to walk into the Great Hall, but I reached out a hand to touch his arm, effectively stopping him in his tracks. His usually soft brown eyes were dark as he regarded me.

"Thanks, James," I told him, trying to sound as sincere as I felt. "I didn't realize how… I needed to talk someone. Someone else, I mean. Thanks for listening. You, I mean, you're…thanks," I finished lamely.

Holy Hippogriffs. I couldn't have been less eloquent if I'd tried.

"Anytime you need a shoulder," he said, pointing to the one I'd previously cried on, "I'm here."

A strong urge came over me, and instead of thinking it through I moved closer and put my arms around James. At first, the hug was a tad awkward. He'd hugged me after the last Quidditch match, but that had been different. That hug had been the result of excitement. Everyone hugged everyone else after a victory. This was…well…

It took James a moment to register that I was voluntarily hugging him and he stood there, a bit rigid. But then his arms closed around me pulling me closer. My heart was beating quickly in my chest and it felt a bit strange to be this close to him. But at the same time, it was just like the first time he had held me while we sat on the floor of the shower in the locker room. I felt warm and safe and somehow as though everything that was currently wrong would be all right.

Merlin, so many things had changed. If someone had told me at the start of term that by mid-January I would be friends with James Potter and hugging him in the entrance hall, I would have laughed in their face and assumed that they had escaped from St. Mungo's. And really, who wouldn't have assumed that?

"Why didn't you want to talk to me about Tristan?" I could feel his heart beating just as rapidly as my own.

"Eva?"

I felt myself stiffen and I quickly pulled away from James.

"Jonathan, what are you doing out here?" I asked as I turned to face my boyfriend.

Holy Hippogriffs, this looked bad, didn't it? How did I constantly manage to give people the wrong impression about me and James? I was certain that my face was positively flaming with embarrassment. My cheeks felt terribly warm.

"Albus and Gareth seemed to think that you wanted to talk to me," he answered, seeming confused. "They said something about you being down at the pitch?"

Jonathan's eyes glanced between me and James. He didn't seem to know what to make of the situation. Neither did I. And judging by the expression on James's face, neither did he.

Behind Jonathan's back, Al and Gareth slipped out of the Great Hall. I noticed Al slide a worn looking piece of parchment into the pocket of his robes. There was no possible way that those two weren't involved in mischief of some sort.

"Er…sorry, no," was all the answer I could give. "Gareth, care to explain?" I asked loudly as he and Al were about to slink around the corner and up the closest staircase.

Gareth spun on his heel to face the three of us standing there and put on a fake apologetic face. "Sorry, Puffer, I must have been mistaken. I thought I heard her say something about it down in the locker rooms."

I had the feeling that I shouldn't believe a word coming out of Gareth's mouth for the moment considering he hadn't been in the locker rooms at all. And did he really just call Jonathan, Puffer?

"Gareth," I said warningly in my best authoritative Quidditch captain voice.

"Gotta run. Lessons and all," he said quickly and then he and Al were scurrying up the stairs.

Next to me, I heard James give a snort of amusement. Well, at least someone found this whole debacle humorous.

It was unfortunate, but my intimidating captain voice just never worked on Gareth. It could work on Richard if I had him alone, but if Gareth was there to back him up, he could resist too. Perhaps it was because they were my younger brothers and had seen me when I first woke up in the morning. It's difficult to look and sound stern when you're wearing Puddlemere pyjamas and your hair looks as though something built a nest in it while you slept.

Jonathan had a strange look on his face as he watched the two younger boys hurry off in retreat. He still had the same look on his face when he turned back to me.

"My friends and I are still finishing breakfast. Would you care to join us?" He held out his hand.

"Yeah," I said, taking his hand. "I'm famished. I could eat a hippogriff."

"See you around, Eva," James called as I was walking away.

I stopped and turned around to face him. He was giving me a very intense look. "Bye, James. And thanks."

He flashed me one of his smirks that I knew so well, shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, and then walked off towards the Gryffindor table.

"Eva…" Jonathan said slowly, "What just happened?"

"I was upset about Tristan and I talked with James about it. He understands, you know? As for the rest of it…I really haven't a clue."

Jonathan nodded but his troubled expression didn't dissipate. "It's just…I wish you'd come to me when you need to talk," he said, head bowed, fingers fidgety. "I can _try_ to understand."

I knew that Jonathan was hurt and just wanted to be a good boyfriend, but I didn't understand why he was so upset. It was just _James_.

"James understands in a way that no one else outside of my family can."

"Have you talked to them about it?" he asked.

"_Yes_," I stressed. "I have. But it felt good to talk to James about it. He was worried about me."

"_I_ was worried about you too, Eva," Jonathan said, his voice sounding a bit sad.

"Eva! Lovely to see you again!" Judith greeted me as we approached the Hufflepuff table.

I had never sat anywhere besides the Gryffindor table. It felt strange to see the Great Hall and the other House tables from another perspective. I rather felt as though I didn't belong.

"Hello," I said to all of them as I climbed over the bench. Jonathan sat down next to me quietly.

Max waved at me with his fork and Aristotle merely looked up to acknowledge my presence. I was starting to assume that he must not talk in front of people he didn't know well. Either that or he objected to my mere presence.

"You were at Quidditch practice?" Max asked me with a joking smile. "Any secrets you want to give away to our team? We could use a little help after your Gryffindor team beat us so badly."

"None," I answered firmly. "We have a Quidditch Cup to win." I knew that he was joking, but people just don't joke about giving away Quidditch secrets.

Max laughed. "You could tell me all of the Gryffindor secrets and I'd never be able to remember half of it to tell anyone. I like Quidditch and I understand the rules, but anything to do with strategy eludes me."

"That's just what a spy would say," I smiled as I put some fruit and yogurt on to my plate.

Just then, Waffle swooped in and dropped a letter on my plate. I cringed as I saw that the writing on the front belonged to my mum. I fed Waffle a piece of toast, and with a contented hoot he flew off back to the owlry.

_Dear Eva,_

_What were you thinking, punching another girl in the nose? Richard and Gareth seem to think that it's a laughing matter, but I don't care what this girl has said or done to you. It's no way to behave. It's lucky your punishment wasn't more severe. Did you even stop and think about what might have happened, Eva? What if you had been removed as captain for attacking a rival captain? Thank goodness you didn't curse her. You can stand up for yourself without resorting to fighting in the corridors. As punishment, you're not receiving any pocket money this month and you'll be doing chores when you come home for summer holiday._

_No word from Tristan yet. That boy has your father's stubbornness. Won't you try writing to him, Eva? You two were always close and I can't seem to be able to get through to him. _

_Your father and I will try to attend the next Gryffindor next match. Please send us the date. And tell your younger brothers to write more often._

_Love,_

_Mum_

There was a note from dad at the bottom:

_P.S. Eva, I'm torn between saying I would have done the same and saying that you're lucky Professor Longbottom or Headmistress McGonagall didn't take away your position as captain. Just remember everything you've worked for – you don't want to lose that now._

Looking up from the letter, I felt physically sick. Mum and Dad were right – I could have lost my position as captain of the Gryffindor team. I mean, punching Rinald in the face had felt brilliant. If you asked me, she'd had it coming for years. But it wasn't worth losing everything that I had worked so hard to achieve, even if my appointment as captain was rather biased.

I was extremely fortunate that my punishment hadn't been worse. The thought of what could have happened pressed in on me, nearly suffocating me.

"I don't feel so well," I muttered, roughly pushing my half-eaten breakfast away from me. "I'm going to go ask Madam Pomfrey for a Pepper-Up Potion."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Jonathan asked quickly. He stood up as I did.

I shook my head. No, I didn't want him there. This was about Quidditch; he wouldn't understand. "I don't want you to miss...whatever lessons it is you have first thing."

Jonathan nodded and slowly sat back down. "If you're certain."

"Yeah."

I was almost to the Hospital Wing when I heard James's voice behind me.

"Eva!"

I turned around to see him striding towards me. How did he always seem know where to find me? He and Fred both seemed to have a particular talent for seeking people out.

I took the letter from my parents out of the pocket of my robes and shoved it at him. "Read it."

He eyes quickly scanned the parchment. When he had finished, he looked up. "I was thinking the same thing this morning at Quidditch practice. I kept thinking, what if you had lost your position all because you punched Rinaldi."

"Oh, so that's what you were busy smirking about?" I accused him, my face hot, my anger spreading. "Wouldn't you have _just loved_ it if they'd taken captain away from me and given it to you!"

James's eyes darkened angrily. "If you think – "

"You once told me that everyone expected you to be captain and that I was going to be a rubbish captain and that I'd be begging you for help –"

James's jaw twitched and he spoke through practically clenched teeth. "I said that when I was very bitter and very angry. _I don't really think that at all_! Yeah, I wanted to be captain. Yeah, I'll always regret not captaining the Gryffindor team. But I wouldn't want to be captain because the position was taken away from you. And if you think that, then you don't know me _at all_. It might surprise you to know that I think you're a good captain!"

I stared at James as he stood in front of me, his face flushed with anger, his eyes stony. His hands were clasped in fists at his side as he stared directly back at me. His words made me feel ashamed of myself for jumping to such a harsh conclusion. I had allowed my insecurity about Sean's decision to cloud my judgment and had taken my anger out on James.

"I'm sorry," I told him, my voice cracking a bit. Bloody hell, I sounded like a frog. His rigid stand relaxed almost imperceptibly. "That was awful of me to say. I…I just…jumped to conclusions and I shouldn't have done."

"No, you shouldn't have. But you're upset because of what the letter said," James said. He moved closer to me, and for the second time in one morning, I found myself hugging James Potter. How _bizarre_.

"It _is_ something I've thought about though," I admitted as I pressed my forehead into his shoulder. "Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if you were captain. Would people have liked you more? Would our team be better? Would we have beaten Slytherin?"

One of his hands rubbed small circles over my lower back. The touch nearly made me shiver. It felt nice, but at the same time, I wasn't certain that James should be touching me like that. Then again…we were mates. I hugged Christine all of the time, though technically that was very different. Ack, I didn't know what to think. I hadn't even been this close to Jonathan since our kiss in his bedroom over Christmas holiday.

"What's done is done, Eva," James told me, his breath warm against my neck. "Believe me – I've spent a lot of time wondering about what ifs and it's a pointless road to go down. You're the Gryffindor captain, and you're doing your best. And your best, I have to say, is bloody _brilliant_."

I gave a small laugh at that. "Thanks, James. You're a good friend."

There was a brief pause and then he said, "I told you – my shoulder is always available. Also, at practice, you know what I was thinking about?"

I pulled out of the hug to be able to look at his face as he spoke. He was smirking now. Even if I hadn't been able to see him, I would have been able to hear it in his voice.

"I was imaging what your face must have looked like after you punched Rinaldi."

I cocked my head to the side, inquisitively. "And what, exactly, did you imagine?"

"Shock," he responded at once, still smirking. "Mixed with just a hint of triumph."

"That's exactly how I felt," I confirmed with a smile. He grinned back at me, which made my stomach feel a bit strange.

"Do you still need that Pepper-Up Potion? I assume that's what you were doing in the corridor that led to the Hospital Wing."

"No," I shook my head. "I think I'll be fine. Thanks to you."

"Then let's get to Arithmancy before Vector has our heads. We're already serving detention for her tonight."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

That evening when I arrived at the detention set for me by Professor Vector, I found James already sitting in the Arithmancy classroom. He was balancing a chair on two legs and leaning casually on the back.

"Fancy seeing you here," he drawled as I walked in.

"It's your bleeding fault that I have this detention in the first place," I grumbled unhappily. "You wouldn't leave me alone."

"Lines for the pair of you," Professor Vector announced crisply as she strode into the classroom. "You will be writing, 'I will not write silly loves notes and I will pay attention in lessons' two hundred and fifty times each. I expect proper penmanship. I will be monitoring you."

I almost opened my mouth to tell the professor that James and I hadn't been writing loves notes to each other, but then I thought better of it. Considering the detentions that I would be serving for punching Lyra Rinaldi, I didn't need any more. I already had enough to do with my evenings. The professors were continually piling more and more schoolwork on the seventh years and then there was Quidditch to think about.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I landed us in detention on purpose?" James asked. He seemed curious, almost as though he had felt compelled to ask.

"_What_?" I cried feeling rather outraged. But the thing was, I had no trouble whatsoever believing that James Potter would do something so ridiculous.

"It wouldn't be the first time," he said easily, starting to write his own lines. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you. At that point, you were still avoiding me."

Wait…he had gotten me detention before?

I stared at him incredulously. "So… you thought that the best way to get into my good graces and have an opportunity to talk to me would be to _land me in detention_?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, but the tips of his ears turned pink. "Sounds about right."

I had to laugh at his logic. "You're incorrigible."

He smirked. "So I've been told."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.<strong>

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! Did you enjoy all of the James and Eva interaction? ;)

**Next chapter:** Sorcha says something surprising, James and Al reveal the identity of Mystery Boy, Jonathan and Eva spend time in a Quidditch shop, and Eva accidentally witnesses something that she never expected to see.


	20. That Was Unexpected

**Disclaimer:** The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter Twenty: That was Unexpected**_

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"I asked someone to Hogsmeade," Sorcha announced happily one Saturday morning as we all dressed to go to Hogsmeade after breakfast.

I half expected Sorcha to say that she had written a letter to my dad or something, but then she said, "His name is Oliver Campbell and he's in Hufflepuff."

Sorcha going out with someone named Oliver…was I the only one who found that a wee bit strange? I shot Christine a look of surprise. In return she shrugged and mouthed, "Don't ask me."

"That's fantastic!" Gemma told her as she gave her a quick hug. "I'm so happy for you. I'm glad that you're finally over that Johnson bloke. He wasn't good for you."

Well, it looked as though Gemma and Sorcha had made up and Gemma had gotten over Sorcha saying that James belonged with some other girl.

Wait a minute…Sorcha had crushes on _real people_? Not that my dad wasn't real. He was. I would know. It was just that he was famous and married and entirely too old for her. To hear that Sorcha actually noticed boys our age was news to me.

Granted, there were a great many things that escaped my notice and Sorcha' love life was hardly on my radar, but she was forever waffling on about my dad. I always considered her an over sharer, but it looked as though she hadn't been sharing everything after all.

Perhaps…I had judged her too harshly. Perhaps she was just a girl with a bit of a celebrity obsession. She wasn't the only one after all. There were plenty of women that, for some reason, found my father extremely attractive. He received some very odd letters in the post every now and then. It was disturbing, to say the least. For some reason, my mum thought the letters were hysterically funny.

"Oliver's in the year below us, but he's awfully nice," Sorcha continued happily. "I first noticed him because his name is Oliver and that's my favorite name because of Oliver Wood."

Never mind, I take it all back. She was completely mental.

Looking into the mirror above my bedside table, I examined my appearance. At Christine's urging, I had put my hair up into a half up, half down style that I didn't often bother with. I usually just left it down or tied it back. She thought I should try to look nice for Jonathan or something.

"You have such pretty hair, Eva," Roxanne said in a rather out-of-the-blue comment. "It's such a nice light brown –the way your hair is slightly wavy brings out the hints of blonde and red. It's a nice effect."

"Oh," I said, not knowing how else to respond. "Thank you."

"Someone was telling me the other day that they thought you had pretty hair…who was that…" she puzzled, pulling a bright red blouse over her head.

"Are you ready to go to breakfast?" Gemma asked Roxanne quickly. "I'm really hungry."

"James eats early, you've probably missed him," Sorcha commented in an off-handed manner.

"James!" Roxanne snapped her fingers. "That's who it was, Eva. James thinks you have pretty hair."

"How do _you_ know when James eats?" Gemma asked in a slightly suspicious tone.

Sorcha set her brush down and closed the doors of her wardrobe. "I notice things. That's all."

There was a small flash of light and a puff of smoke and suddenly Gemma's pillows were smoking.

"Let's go," I told Christine as I all but dragged her out of the dormitory.

The corridors were busy with students heading for breakfast and preparing for Hogsmeade.

"You know," I commented thoughtfully as we made our way to the Great Hall, "we really should have been keeping a tally of all of the times she's set things on fire. We'd have quite the list after six and a half years."

Christine grinned and linked her arm with mine. "I've been keeping a tally in my journal since second year."

"I knew there was a reason we were friends."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"So, where to next?" Kieran asked as we stepped out of Tomes and Scrolls. He and Jonathan were each carrying a large bag filled with books and I was the happy owner of Book Four of the _Infiltrator_ series.

"I really have to stop in at the Quidditch shop," I told everyone. "I need some more polish for my arm and shin guards. I'm going to make everyone on the team polish their gear at the next practice, so I want to make sure that I have plenty extra in case someone is out."

"Sounds reasonable," Jonathan commented.

"Haven't you had your fill of polishing?" Kieran asked with a small laugh of disbelief, referring to my detentions spent polishing the Trophy Room. Ugh, thanks for that reminder. I had been trying to mentally block that out.

"Do you mind if Kieran and I pop into Dervish and Bangs?" Christine asked. "It's just that I know you'll be in there a while. You two can meet us over at The Three Broomsticks when you're done. We'll save you seats."

The shop in Hogsmeade wasn't quite as good as Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley, but considering it was still a shop devoted to Quidditch, I loved it. I mean, what was not to love?

The bell over the door jangled cheerfully as Jonathan and I stepped inside. The smell of polish, leather, and wood swept over me in a familiar and comforting wave.

"Doesn't it smell wonderful?" I sighed, completely enraptured.

"It's…unique."

I glanced sharply at Jonathan and saw that he was wrinkling his nose. Heresy, I tell you.

As I poured over the contents label on the back of a polish jar labeled Gowan's Gear Polish, I heard the bell to the shop jingle and James Potter say, "Is there anything better than the smell of a Quidditch shop?"

See? Other people enjoyed it too. I wasn't some sort of lunatic. Most days.

"I dunno…I'd take Honeydukes over this," came Al's voice. "You can't go wrong with chocolate."

"Get. Out."

Al just laughed. I smiled to myself.

"Is there something that I'm missing?" Jonathan asked, apparently serious. "I just don't smell it."

I stared at him, feeling way beyond appalled. What did he mean he didn't smell it? It was pure heaven!

"Are you almost done?" Jonathan asked me.

I barely had a moment to feel horrified. But in that brief moment, I realized that Jonathan and I didn't need to be "Jonathan and I" anymore, and that I had been a completely blind idiot not to have seen it sooner. Now the only question was how to go about breaking up with him…I would have to talk to Christine later.

"Eva!" Al said as he noticed me, and cheerfully approached.

James followed him, wearing his usual smirk. "Eva Wood…imagine finding you here." He leaned casually against the nearest shelf and ran a hand through his already untidy hair.

"Hi, Al," Jonathan said pleasantly.

"Hi," Al replied. "Look, I've been meaning to ask you – I need to switch my rounds schedule for next week. I have detention from Sinistra for breaking a telescope."

Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten that Al and Jonathan would have known each other because Al was a Prefect. Sweet Merlin, the things that escaped my notice.

"Grant," James said a bit stiffly, casting a long, appraising glance at Jonathan.

Oh, ack. This sizing him up business again?

"James," Jonathan returned, but it wasn't in his usual pleasant voice. His voice was slightly harder, and just a bit…challenging. Weird.

"We're polishing our gear next practice," I told James, "So be prepared."

"Have you tried this new brand yet?" he asked, leaning closer to take the jar of Gowan's Gear Polish from my hands. As he did so, his warm, slightly rough hands brushed my own, and I felt my face grow a bit warm and I fought back a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach.

Huh. I had never experienced a feeling like that before. It was strange. But it wasn't exactly as though I wasn't surrounded by strange on a daily basis. After all, I lived in the same dormitory as Sorcha Patterson.

"Not yet," I said, my voice more faint than usual. "I thought I might give it a go."

"Oh, yeah," Al said snapping his fingers as he remembered something. "Eva, we're finally ready to put our _plan_ into action."

"Plan?" I asked in confusion. Was there something I was supposed to know? "What plan?"

"The one that involves Lily and the bloke she should be dating," James reminded me, his voice low as he tried not to be overheard by the other students in the shop.

"She came here today with Lysander Scamander," Al told me, making a slight face. "He's a friend of the family and all, but he's…"

"Bloody strange," James interjected.

Al hesitated, then nodded in agreement. "So we decided that it was time to move forward with the plan."

This should be amusing. "Oh, are you finally going to tell me the identity of this mystery man Lily should be dating?"

James and Al glanced at each other and then back to me and spoke at the same time, "Richard."

Wait…_what_? They wanted to set their younger sister up with my younger brother? Huh.

They were watching me with slightly anxious expressions, apparently unsure of how I would take this news.

"Why couldn't you tell me that before?" I demanded. I had no problem with the idea of Lily and Richard. Had they assumed that I would?

"Isn't that a bit forward?" Jonathan spoke up. I had been so wrapped up in conversation with James and Al that I had practically forgotten that he was standing right next to me. "Perhaps neither Lily nor Richard wants to be forced at one another."

"Unlikely on his part, seeing as he fancies her," James smirked knowingly, obviously pleased to have proven Jonathan wrong.

"He fancies _Lily_?" I cried, a little too loudly.

"Ssshhh!" James and Al said together, glancing around the shop fanatically. Thankfully, everyone else seemed too absorbed in what they were doing to notice my outburst.

"He's my brother, why am I apparently the last person to know about this?"

James rolled his eyes and drawled. "Because you don't notice anything, period. Even when it's right in front of your face."

Well, that comment was a bit harsh, I think.

Al had the audacity to start laughing at James's statement. He hastily changed it to a hacking cough as I sent him a withering glare.

I fixed the two brothers with a disbelieving stare to show them that I was not amused. They simply stared back with disbelieving looks of their own. James with an accompanying smirk, of course.

Oh, all right who was I kidding? I was the most oblivious person wandering around on this planet. Maybe even in the galaxy.

"Except when it comes to Quidditch," I reminded them, pointing a finger in their faces.

"Except for that," James agreed with a firm nod. "You're brill at Quidditch."

That was better. And correct.

"So how do you two know that he fancies her?" I asked. I felt as though I was missing some information.

"Have you_ seen_ him around her?" Al asked, his tone incredulous.

I saw them together all of the time, but I had never noticed Richard acting differently. He was generally shy around girls, but he and Lily had seemed to be friends. I shook my head no.

"Let's just say it's obvious to everyone but you," James said.

Fair enough.

"Well, then I'm in," I told them with a grin.

"But if your sister is here with another boy wouldn't that suggest that she has a preference for someone who isn't Richard?" Jonathan spoke up again.

"She's just being polite," Al answered, sounding very certain of himself. "We've known Lysander forever. Lily only sees him as a friend."

Jonathan turned to me. "You object to your brother's interference in your life – why would you meddle in his?"

I sighed heavily. He had essentially just asked me to explain the complex relationship between siblings. Easier said than done, Jonathan.

"Listen," I told him, "Am I annoyed when my brothers meddle in my life? Yes. Do I wish they'd stop? Yes. I really do. Will I take the opportunity to do the same thing to them? Absolutely. Besides, it's not meddling if he wants to be set up with her."

This explanation did not seem to have cleared up any confusion on Jonathan's part. If anything, he appeared to be even more confused.

"It's a sibling thing," James said, in agreement with me.

I turned back to James and Al. "So, what's the plan?"

"We were thinking you could have a girls' night thing. Invite Rose and Lily and Roxanne and find out if Lily is even remotely interested in Richard. Then we'll go from there."

I stared blankly at the two of them. I'm sorry – girls night? Did I look like as though my friends and I did the traditional "girls night" thing?

"You know…_girls' night_?" Al tried to prompt me. "You do each other's hair and talk about who you fancy?"

Really, Al? One would think that with a sister and so many female cousins he would have a better grasp on this concept.

"I haven't participated in a "girls' night" since fourth year when Gemma singed my hair and I learned more about Sorcha's fantasies than I ever wanted to know," I explained in a flat voice.

James and Al visibly suppressed shudders of horror while Jonathan looked on in confusion.

"How about this," James suggested after a moment's thought. "We get Roxanne in on the plan. She'll set up the girls' night and invite only sane people."

I mulled over the proposition for a minute. I supposed if we didn't invite Sorcha and Gemma it could be sort of fun. Or something.

"You talk to Roxanne and I'll go to this sodding girls' night," I finally agreed. After all, it was to help my younger brother along in the pursuit of the girl he fancied. It wouldn't be too painful as long as Sorcha wasn't in attendance.

"We'd better go find Fred," Al said checking his watch. "We left him harassing Susanna Peters outside of Madam Puddifoot's."

"Ugh, that place is revolting," I said, completely forgetting that Jonathan had once asked if I wanted to go there for tea.

James smirked at me in a conspiratorial manner. "We'll keep you updated. See you around, Eva."

"See you," I told them, smiling back at James.

"I thought you weren't friends with James Potter," Jonathan said once the two boys had exited the shop.

I glanced up at Jonathan in surprise. His green eyes looked unusually troubled.

"Oh…yeah, James and I are mates. It was kind of a gradual thing, me realizing that he wasn't quite the prat that I thought he was. I mean, he's still a prat, just in a different way now. He's actually kind of sweet sometimes and even though he still knows how to push all of my buttons, he also knows how to make me laugh. He's an all right bloke. But don't tell him I said so."

Jonathan didn't say anything. I decided to buy the jar of polish and give it a chance; it seemed promising.

As we stepped out of the shop, Jonathan touched my arm gently and said, "Can we find somewhere to sit down for a moment?"

I didn't really want to sit with him anywhere. I wanted to go to the Three Broomsticks, eat lunch, and then get Christine to myself for a bit so I could ask her opinion on how to break up with a bloke.

"We're supposed to meet Christine and Kieran at the Three Broomsticks, remember?"

"I need to talk to you," he insisted, his voice calm but low and earnest.

As we sat down on a low crumbling stone wall next to the Quidditch shop, he hesitantly said, "Eva… this isn't going to work."

What was he talking about? What wasn't going to work?

"Us. This. You and me," he motioned between us when I only stared blankly back at him.

All at once, my mind caught up with the conversation. Oh. _Oh_.

"Oh," I said stupidly as my mind processed the fact that he was breaking up with me.

"We don't make a very good couple," Jonathan told me, his voice a bit thick sounding. "I fancy you… I do. But it's become very apparent to me lately that you don't fancy me. I've tried to be understanding. I thought maybe I was just being unreasonable and jealous. You told me it was nothing, and I believed you because that's what I do – but I can't ignore the facts any longer."

I opened my mouth to say something, but I found that I didn't have anything to say. The unspoken words hung in the cold air between us for a few heavy moments.

"You tried to fancy me," Jonathan continued with a wry smile. "But I imagine it's rather difficult to fancy one person while you're falling for another."

"I don't fancy anyone else," I protested firmly, finally finding my voice. I supposed the indignant feeling of being accused of fancying someone else pushed me to speak up. "But you're right...I don't fancy you. I'm sorry. I did…I just..."

Was it just me or did that sound terribly trite? It all seemed very "it's not you, it's me." Ugh. I wished that someone would walk by and interrupt us and make the oppressive cloud of awkwardness go away. Like, right now. This was _so awkward_ I could barely stand it.

Jonathan gave a hollow laugh that didn't suit his kind personality. "James Potter is a lucky bloke. See you in Herbology, Eva."

He stood up and without a backward glance, left me sitting on the stone wall by myself. I stared after him, puzzling over everything that Jonathan had said to me. Something about being jealous, giving me the benefit of the doubt, and James being a lucky bloke.

James…and suddenly I realized what Jonathan had been saying. Rational, calm, unjealous Jonathan believed the rumors that there was something between me and James. I chuckled wryly and shook my head.

Ultimately the fact that Jonathan had broken up with me wasn't James's fault, or even the fault of unsubstantiated rumors about me and James. Jonathan had broken up with me because he fancied a girl who didn't - and couldn't - care for him the way he wanted her to. Our relationship had no future, and so he had ended it.

I wasn't angry at all. Being dumped wasn't much fun, but I didn't feel upset. At all. Instead, I felt _relieved_. And, if I was being entirely honest, ashamed of myself for feeling relieved and for not breaking things off with Jonathan sooner.

"You all right, Eva Louise?"

I brought my head up from where I had been concentrating on staring at a patch of ground to see Fred Weasley standing in front of me. He looked a little uncomfortable, but also maybe a little concerned.

"Yes," I told him. And I was. Jonathan and I were over and I felt relieved.

"You sure?" he settled down in the same spot that Jonathan had vacated just moments ago. "Break ups are tough."

I frowned. "You heard that? How?"

Fred shrugged, but a smile played at his lips. "If you don't ask me, I won't have to lie to you. It will be all right," he told me, sounding (for once in his life) serious. Then, naturally, he ruined it all by saying, "After all, you still have James as your man on the side."

Oh, sweet Merlin. Where was a window for me to throw myself out of when I needed one?

"There you are!" Christine's voice rang out. "I was beginning to worry. Are you all right?" she asked as she saw Fred sitting with me rather than Jonathan.

"As much as I'd love to listen to this, I'll leave you two alone," Fred winked at me. "I'll spread the word to your brothers. They'll be ecstatic."

Too right they would. They'd probably even owl Mum and Dad and everything. Dad would be relieved that the cricket-lover was out of the picture. I nearly laughed as I imagined his satisfaction.

"What's he going to tell them?" Christine asked, looking extremely confused as she took in Fred striding away and my laughter. "And where's Jonathan?"

I took a deep breath as I met her hazel colored eyes. "He broke up with me."

Christine stared at me. She blinked once. "He didn't."

I nodded. Oh, yes, he most certainly did. I would know.

"But…" She opened her mouth, then closed it, then tried once more. "I always thought that _you'd_ break up with _him_!"

I'm sorry…say _what_?

"Were you waiting around for me to ditch him?" I questioned. I wasn't entirely certain how I felt about the idea that my best friend had expected me to break up with my boyfriend.

"No, no!" Christine assured me. "It's just…it was always clear that he fancied you much more than you fancied him. And then you didn't fancy him and after that conversation with Sorcha when she asked you if you loved him and you looked as though you were going to throw yourself out of a window…well, I thought this wouldn't be long in coming."

"You knew that I didn't fancy him?"

Holy Hippogriffs, why did _everyone_ know _everything_ before me?

Christine offered me a small smile. "I thought about talking to you, but in the end I decided to let you come to your own decisions. You had enough other people telling you that you shouldn't have been dating him; I didn't think you needed to hear that from me too. And it was clear that you wanted to fancy him."

"He was a nice bloke," I replied. "And being asked out by a great guy… it was such a boost of confidence. It made me happy. I do like him as a person. Mostly. And I did fancy him in the beginning, just not like I should have. I mean, it was like he was this friend that I occasionally kissed." I paused. "Do you think I hurt him very badly?"

Christine put her arm around me and I leaned my head on her shoulder. "Probably. But you're not the first person to give a guy a chance and not be able to feel something for him."

"But…I feel as though I led him on. But I didn't mean to! I wanted to fancy him; he's a _nice _bloke."

There I went again with that word – _nice_. I mean, there's nothing wrong with nice, nothing at all. But…when's that's _all_ there is…I just needed there to be something more.

I had been comfortable with Jonathan, but I don't think that's how it was supposed to feel. I knew that eventually every couple reached a point at which they were comfortable with each other, but shouldn't a relationship start out with something more? I had only felt fluttery around Jonathan the time had asked me out and before our first date.

"I think it's important that you gave him a chance," Christine told me. "A lot of girls don't give clever, nice guys a chance."

"You did."

Christine gave a wave of dismissal to my comment. "That's different. _I'm_ interested in swots who wear argyle sweaters. You're Eva Wood – intimidating, brilliant Quidditch captain."

Really? Me, intimidating? Where in the world would she get an idea like _that?_

"On the Quidditch pitch, maybe," I scoffed at her unbelievingly.

In response, she merely rolled her eyes. I mean, I couldn't see her do it what with my head on her shoulder, but I knew she was. Best mates know these things.

"You know," I said slowly. "I'm not upset about Jonathan breaking up with me. What I am upset about is that I led him on, even if it wasn't intentional. I should have been honest with myself and with him and ended it. I shouldn't have made him keep on hoping as long as he did. Merlin, Christine, I'm so blind! What's _wrong_ with me? I'm a terrible person! I just…I'd never…"

"Eva, you _are not_ a terrible person, and there is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with you," Christine told me firmly. "There are much worse things to be in this world than oblivious."

Maybe so, but I still didn't feel very good about the entire situation.

"He insinuated that I fancy James."

"Do you?" She didn't sound surprised.

My insides churned uncomfortably. "I'm attracted to him… You know, I haven't even admitted that to myself until just now? Merlin, ever since I accidentally saw him without his shirt…"

"_When was this_?" Christine cried, affronted that I hadn't told her about the shirtless James incident sooner. "I feel as though there's a good story here."

"Oh, there is," I grinned. I remembered it all too well. The scene played behind my eyes more often than I cared to admit. So I told Christine the swoon- inducing story of shirtless James in the locker room.

"But do you fancy him?" she asked when I had finished.

"I don't think so," I told her in all honestly. "I just like his abs and arm muscles."

"Hmm…" Christine hummed.

"You don't believe me?"

"Hmm," was all the answer I received.

"I'll push you off this wall," I joked. "I've punched someone in the face. I have a reputation now. And I'm apparently intimidating."

She just laughed. Mostly at me, but that was all right.

I told Christine to go back to the Three Broomsticks and finish her lunch with Kieran. She tried to force me to join them, but I insisted that I would rather go back to the castle and go for a fly or a run. Something to clear my mind a bit.

I had intended to go straight to the Quidditch pitch, but then I remembered that after our last practice, I had taken my workout clothing to my dormitory to be sent to the laundry. It was sitting, folded on my trunk at the foot of my four-poster bed. I might as well go up to the dormitory first and retrieve it considering I would need them again on Monday morning.

Halfway to Gryffindor Tower, I found my way blocked by Peeves, the castle's resident poltergeist, who was busying himself by throwing sticks at suits of armor. Not wanting to be the new object of Peeves' aim, I decided to take a detour and found myself walking down a hallway that, while not unfamiliar, wasn't one I used much. I was so caught up in my thoughts about everything that had happened that afternoon that I took a wrong turn and ended up in some deserted corridor that I had never been in before.

However, I soon discovered that I wasn't the only one in the corridor. Standing to the side of the empty, dusty corridor stood a boy and girl with their arms wrapped around each other, completely and totally oblivious to the world. As I watched, the boy brought his hand up to push a strand of hair out of the girl's face and then slowly leaned forward to kiss her tenderly.

"Holy Hippogriffs!" I cried in complete shock, then quickly brought my hands up to cover my mouth, eyes wide as I stared at the two people snogging before me in the corridor.

I suddenly found myself wishing that I just stayed in Hogsmeade and eaten with my friends. That would have been _so much_ _less awkward_ than the situation that I was now facing.

Bugger. Why did these things always happen to me?

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**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! Jonathan broke up with Eva – did anyone see that one coming? And how excited are you that he's out of the picture? :) Congratulations to everyone who guessed correctly that the identity of the Mystery Boy was Richard!

**Next chapter:** The identity of the couple snogging in the corridor is revealed (any guesses?), people react to Jonathan and Eva breaking up, Slytherin plays Ravenclaw, and it's Valentine's Day!

I have to take my laptop to be repaired, so I'm afraid it's very likely that the next update won't be for quite a while. Sorry to do this to you guys on a cliffhanger chapter! So in compensation, here in a snippet from the next chapter:

"_I knew it wouldn't last," Gareth informed me, seeming quite pleased with himself. _

_Naturally, my brothers weren't outraged that some bloke had presumably broken my heart. Even though he most certainly hadn't. If anything, I broke his. The thought made me twinge uncomfortably. _

_Richard nodded earnestly and said in his usual blunt manner, "You two were so bleeding boring. All you did was study together and talk about schoolwork. You barely even snogged." _

"_Anyone could see that you two had absolutely no chemistry," Gareth agreed._

_Was I really standing here holding a conversation with my fifteen year old brothers about the chemistry, or lack thereof, with my boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend. Whatever. Even my younger brothers had noticed that Jonathan and I weren't well suited. Ugh. That was just…well, pathetic, really._

_I heavily dropped my face into the palm of my hand. My skin felt very warm; I was probably blushing like crazy. "I'm going for a much needed stress relieving fly," I muttered. _


	21. Surprises and Rumors

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter 21: Surprises and Rumors**_

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"I… don't understand," I finally managed to say, as I stared blankly at the two people in front of me.

Well, I certainly hoped that Scorpius Malfoy wasn't dating Lyra Rinaldi considering I had just caught him snogging Rose Weasley in a deserted corridor. Not that I knew either of them well, but Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy…how had that even _happened_?

"Please don't tell anyone," Rose begged me, blue eyes pleading. She pulled on Scorpius's hand and the two of them came closer towards where my feet were rooted to the floor.

"We're not ready for our families to know that we're going out yet," Scorpius informed me, sounding very cool and collected considering the circumstances.

Oh, so this wasn't just randomly snogging in the corridors. This was _dating_. Sweet Merlin, Holy Hippogriffs, and Godric Gryffindor.

"You don't know my dad," Rose further explained. "He and Scorpius's dad were huge enemies when they were at school together. The war changed some of that - but even though they grudgingly tolerate each other now, my dad once told me not to get too friendly with Scorpius."

"I would say that you're way past friendly," I said.

Scorpius gave me a faint smile and Rose laughed, though her laughter had a hint of nervousness about it. I could hardly blame her.

"You're friends with so many people in my family," Rose said to me. "Please don't tell them."

"Oh, Merlin, _James_," I breathed, tugging distractedly on the ends of my hair as I thought of him and what he would think about this scene in front of me.

If James knew that his cousin was off snogging the Slytherin Seeker, he would throw a fit. Malfoy had beaten James at Quidditch, and James didn't forget things like that. Come to think of it, neither did I. What in the name of Merlin was Rose Weasley doing out with the bloke responsible for our loss?!

"_Eva,_ _you can't tell him_!" Rose insisted, freckled face lined with worry.

That was definitely one conversation I never wanted to have: "Hiya James, so, it turns out that your cousin, Rose, is snogging Malfoy, who caught the Snitch before you at that match we lost. Just thought you should know!"

Yeah, that wasn't happening. Ever.

"I won't," I promised faithfully. "But you should. And soon. They're your family, Rose, and they love you."

Not to mention that if James - or any of the Potter/Weasley family for that matter – somehow found out that I had known about Rose and Malfoy and didn't say anything to them they'd be cross beyond imagining. James wouldn't be (too) upset because Malfoy was a Slytherin; he would be bothered because Malfoy was on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Rose breathed out a sigh of obvious relief and some of the panic went out of her eyes.

"You had better not be messing her around, Malfoy," I warned him in my best authoritative Quidditch captain voice. Be afraid Slytherin.

Unfortunately, Scorpius didn't look remotely intimidated. But then he was used to interacting with Rinaldi, wasn't he? Next to her, my Quidditch captain voice probably sounded cheerful and kind.

"I'm not," Scorpius reassured me at once. He looked sideways at Rose, his light grey eyes tender. "I've fancied her for ages; I'm not letting her go now."

So, Scorpius Malfoy did have emotions. Huh. Who knew?

Rose beamed up at him. I purposefully studied the torch bracket on the wall next to me, feeling as though I should give them a bit of privacy.

"We're going to tell them," Rose said, turning back to me. "We're just going to break it to them slowly."

"Well, in the meantime, don't get caught again," I suggested with a slight smile.

"We've been lucky so far," Scorpius said. "But we're careful. I don't especially want to be hexed by her brother and all of her cousins." He winced at the very thought.

A thought struck me. "How long has this been going on?"

Both of their faces flushed pink.

"Officially, only a few weeks," Rose answered shyly, "But we've been studying together for months."

Months? Oh, Holy Hippogriffs.

"You mean to tell me that no one's noticed?" I found that extremely difficult – verging on impossible – to believe considering how close the Potter and Weasley cousins were.

"Oh, no, they did," she assured me. "I study with Al a lot so he noticed right away. But I convinced everyone that Scorpius and I were just studying together because we're top of our class. And Al's actually better at Potions than I am – but don't tell him I said so - so he started studying with us. He and Scorpius actually get on quite well."

"It's James and Fred I worry about," Scorpius said flatly.

No arguments there.

After all of this business, now I really needed that stress-relieving fly. I made my way back to the common room in a bit of a haze. Today had been such a strange day. Not in a terrible way mind you, but it certainly hadn't been an average day. Then again, we were at Hogwarts. There was no such thing as an average day.

"We heard the news!" Gareth told me as they spotted me walking through the common room. Both he and Richard were grinning widely.

"News?" I inquired my voice a bit higher than normal.

Richard raised an eyebrow as he regarded me with suspicious eyes. "You and the Hufflepuff. Fred says he ditched you?"

Oh, thank goodness. My mind had automatically jumped to the most recent news I had heard - that Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy were dating. I had very nearly had a panic attack at the thought that someone had found out already.

"Oh, yeah," I waved the question off, relieved. "That's over."

"I knew it wouldn't last," Gareth informed me, seeming quite pleased with himself.

Naturally, my brothers weren't outraged that some bloke had presumably broken my heart. Even though he most certainly hadn't. If anything, I broke his. The thought made me twinge uncomfortably.

Richard nodded earnestly and said in his usual blunt manner, "You two were so bleeding boring. All you did was study together and talk about schoolwork. You barely even snogged."

"Anyone could see that you two had absolutely no chemistry," Gareth agreed.

Was I really standing here holding a conversation with my fifteen year old brothers about the chemistry, or lack thereof, with my boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend. Whatever. Even my younger brothers had noticed that Jonathan and I weren't well suited. Ugh. That was just…well, _pathetic,_ really.

I heavily dropped my face into the palm of my hand. My skin felt very warm; I was probably blushing like crazy. "I'm going for a much needed stress relieving fly," I muttered.

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The Hogwarts Rumor Mill was nothing - if not efficient - at spreading news (regardless of its level of accuracy). So naturally, by the time lessons were finished on Monday everyone in the castle knew that Jonathan and I had broken up. Christine told me that she had heard a group of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs speculating that I had ditched Jonathan because he didn't like Quidditch and I couldn't take his ignorance anymore. Kieran had apparently been informed that Jonathan had broken up with me because I liked Quidditch more than I liked him. Which, you know, was pretty much true. Sensible lot, Ravenclaws.

Of course, Lyra Rinaldi was perpetuating the most ridiculous rumor circulating the castle. She claimed to have been informed by Veronica Reid (the cow from Quidditch tryouts) who had heard it from some nameless fifth years who supposedly knew my brothers, that I was having some kind of torrid affair with James Potter. Jonathan had apparently discovered James and me, and had been completely brokenhearted and ruthlessly ditched me as a result.

I'd heard that particular rumor while I was in the loo between lessons. On the one hand, it was all I could do not to burst out laughing at the sheer lunacy of the story. But on the other hand, I felt a bit horrified. I didn't want people believing that I had treated Jonathan so poorly when everyone knew that he was such a nice bloke. I mean, I had accidentally led him on and as a result not treated him as well as I could have, but I certainly hadn't cheated on him.

At dinner on Monday evening, I wasn't the least bit surprised when Rose and Lily dropped down into the empty spots next to where Christine and I were sitting eating dinner at the Gryffindor table.

"The answer is no," I told the pair of them as they opened their mouths to speak. Christine laughed into her goblet of pumpkin juice and nearly started choking.

"That's what I thought," Lily said with a small frown of disappointment.

"You don't even know what we wanted to ask," Rose protested even as she eyed Christine to make certain that she was okay and not going to flop off the bench.

Yes, I did. They wanted to know if I was going to go out with James now.

"Don't you have someone else's life to meddle in?" I wondered out loud.

"Not at all," Lily said cheerfully, helping herself to some potatoes.

"Maybe you should find someone then," I suggested as I speared a piece of broccoli on my fork and popped it into my mouth.

"What about Rose?" Christine teased gently. "Surely you have something interesting in your life that Lily can me meddle in."

Rose's face quickly turned an alarming shade of red that clashed horribly with her hair, but Lily was thankfully too busy protesting Christine's comment to notice. I practically breathed a sigh of relief but then didn't because that would have been weird.

"It's not just _me_," Lily cried, sounding a bit affronted. "Rose wanted to meddle as well. Our entire family likes to meddle. It's what we _do_."

"Isn't that the truth?" Fred laughed as he came up behind Lily and Rose and ruffled their hair so that it stood on end. Both girls frowned up at him and sought to flatten their hair.

"We're brilliant meddlers, the lot of us," James agreed with an easy grin as he joined his cousin. He ran a hand through his black hair and my stomach clenched in a tingly sort of way that felt rather odd.

"How are you holding up, Eva Louise?" Fred asked me, fixing me with a concerned expression. I wasn't fooled though – his brown eyes were sparkling with amusement.

I rolled my eyes at him and ate another forkful of broccoli.

In return, he jokingly pointed a finger at my face. "Don't you roll those blue eyes at me, Eva Louise."

"Is that your middle name?" Rose asked innocently.

James and Fred burst out laughing, which caused several people sitting nearby to cast us interested glances.

"Fred just likes calling her that because he knows it annoys her. Her middle name is Rebecca," James answered for me as I finished chewing my food.

"How do _you_ know?" Christine asked with a small smile.

James merely shrugged in an off-handed manner. "Tristan mentioned it once when he was telling some story about your mum scolding you for jumping out of a tree to practice falling, ducking, and rolling."

Ha, I'd forgotten all about that. Mum was none too happy with me that day. I didn't see what the big fuss was – it wasn't as though I was jumping from the _top_ of the tree or anything; it had been a relatively low branch.

"Incidentally," he added, "I've received a similar lecture."

"It's probably better that you two weren't friends before this year," Lily remarked. "Neither of you has much sense of personal safety – you probably would have gotten each other killed in the name of Quidditch."

Considering how many injuries I had acquired growing up with three brothers, I had to say that that was probably a very accurate observation. If I had had a mate like James to help egg me on when I was younger and even more inclined to dangerous activities, we could have gotten ourselves into some serious trouble.

James grinned at me and said jokingly, "I could use a little practice at jumping out of trees."

I grinned back at him, my stomach fluttering strangely. It was a funny feeling and one that I wasn't particularly used to. Perhaps something I had eaten hadn't agreed with me.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Nice to see you finally showed up," James told me as I sat down next to him on the bench in the stands of the Quidditch pitch.

"The match doesn't start for nearly forty minutes!" I cried. "What is it that makes you enjoy beating me to the pitch all of the time?"

"The look on your face when you see I'm already here," he smirked. Somehow, I didn't think that he was joking.

I could see that he had brought his notebook with him as always. I had mine in the pocket of my robes as well. I could hardly attend a Quidditch match without taking notes on the rival teams, now could I?

The sight of James's notebook brought Sean's words back to mind, "_In terms of skill, it was a dead even competition between you and Potter."_ James and I were equally dedicated to Quidditch, but that hadn't been something that I had wanted to accept. After everything that had happened and now that we were friends it was something I had to acknowledge.

Ravenclaw was playing Slytherin, so Christine would be sitting in the Ravenclaw stands with Kieran and his mates. No one else had shown up to the Gryffindor stands yet. In fact, James and I were nearly the only people in the entire stadium.

"So, are you…_you know_, okay?" he asked somewhat warily. "About… Grant, I mean."

I laughed, which seemed to confuse him. He probably thought that I was going completely round the bend, laughing about being ditched.

"I didn't fancy Jonathan, not really," I explained. "He's a great guy, but…"

"But he doesn't like Quidditch," James finished for me.

"You were right. He didn't know a Quaffle from a turnip. Pathetic, really."

Pathetic didn't even cover the half of it. He was a clever bloke and more than capable of learning the basic rules, but he preferred not to. Focusing on his precious cricket, I supposed.

It had bothered me more than I had been willing to admit, that Jonathan hadn't even tried to understand Quidditch or what it meant to me. It had always seemed to amuse and confuse him. Not to mention, his parents had seemed to be laboring under the delusion that I was going through some sort of strange phase and that one day I would wake up and realize that playing professional Quidditch was nothing more than a silly dream.

"Of course I was right," James smirked as he glanced sideways at me. "People like us, we can't be with someone that doesn't at least _like_ Quidditch. Not when Quidditch means as much to us as it does."

"I thought maybe I could make it work," I sighed. "But he didn't even try to like it. He tolerated it with this weird politeness that annoyed me so much! Quidditch is such a huge part of my life, of who I am, but I almost never talked about it with him. You know with the right person, I could handle dating a bloke that wasn't a huge Quidditch fan. But he would need to understand how important it is to me and accept that. Jonathan _didn't._"

I rather felt as though I was telling James far too much about my personal life. But then...we were friends. And friends talked about things like their personal lives with one another.

"You two _would_ be the first ones here," Zara greeted us as she and the rest of the team filed into the stands and took seats on the benches behind us.

"You're better off without him," James smirked as he turned back to me after waving at his family.

I nodded. "I'm better off without a boyfriend right now. I have the Cup to think about. Losing the Cup to Slytherin…it's _not _an option."

A shadow of a frown passed over his face but then it rapidly vanished and he leaned over to glance at my Competition Information Notebook, which I had pulled out and opened on my lap. His eyes skinned over the hastily written words; I hoped he could read it.

"I think you're giving Harper too much credit," he commented as he read my notes on the Ravenclaw Keeper.

"Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow.

"She throws from her wrist, not her shoulder."

"That can be fixed. Aside from that flaw, she's an ace Keeper. I wouldn't be surprised if those scouts over there were here to see her," I pointed at the small cluster of Quidditch scouts sitting in the stands across the pitch.

"Or Malfoy," James commented darkly, shooting a dirty look at the Slytherin stands as though the bloke in question was currently sitting over there instead of in the locker room with his team.

Talking about Keepers made me think about Tristan and made my chest feel heavy and constricted. I had only been back at Hogwarts for a couple of weeks, but if he and I hadn't rowed the way we did, I would have received a letter from him. I found myself vaguely wondering how he was doing, training with his new team.

As the match began, James and I began taking notes on all of the players on the Ravenclaw and Slytherin teams. I pushed my idiot older brother out of my mind and focused on the task at hand.

"Ravenclaw has really improved since their match against Hufflepuff," James said as two of the Ravenclaw Chasers, Chang and Davies, expertly passed a Quaffle between them. "They were good against Hufflepuff, but they've definitely been practicing."

"Do you think we should start adding another practice each week?" I asked, feeling worried as I watched the match. James was right – Ravenclaw had improved a lot. We couldn't risk losing to them in our next match or we would be out of the running for the Cup.

"Yeah, we can't let those snakes take the Cup," Zara said emphatically. "Not after that first match. It should have been ours."

Beside me, I felt James tense a bit. I knew he was thinking about how Malfoy had caught the Snitch and how he felt that he had let down the team.

"We're going to have some stiff competition," Lily's eyes scanned the skies before us, watching the Slytherin and Ravenclaw teams fiercely battle to gain an edge.

"Too right we will," Nico said as one of the Ravenclaw Chasers scored. Ravenclaw was down by thirty points, but in Quidditch that didn't necessarily mean much.

"You're our fearless leader," James smiled widely and threw his free arm casually around my shoulders. "You'll get us to win the Cup or die trying."

Merlin, James had a truly stunning smile. Had I really never noticed that before?

And what he said…that I was the team's fearless leader…that meant an incredible amount coming from James Potter. I wanted to say something to truly express to him how much I appreciated his statement but all I could think to say was, "thank you."

As we continued taking notes and exchanging comments on the events of the match, he kept his left arm slung causally over my shoulders. It was a nice kind of pressure. Even through my cloak, his arm was warm and strong. Comfortable, that's what it was.

"I think Ravenclaw is giving Slytherin a run for their money," Bree chirped behind us. Ravenclaw was now up by thirty points.

No sooner had she spoken than there was a roar from the crowd and the announcer was shouting, "Liam Greenfield of Ravenclaw has seen the Snitch!"

I leaned forward eagerly to watch as Malfoy began closing in on Greenfield. Greenfield was just far enough ahead. He stretched out his arm and grasped at the air, his fingers barely missing the little golden ball fluttering just ahead of him.

Malfoy was only half a broomsticks length behind when Greenfield made a very desperate grab that threw him off balance slightly which forced him to hastily return both hands to his broom to avoid nose-diving into the ground. Leaning forward precariously, Malfoy stretched out his arm and his pale hand closed around the Golden Snitch.

"Malfoy has it! He's caught the Snitch!" the announcer cheered excitedly. "Slytherin wins the match 310 to 190!"

I wrote the score of the match down in my notebook as beside me James did the same. He took his arm away from my shoulder and it suddenly seemed cold without his added body heat.

With Slytherin adding another 310 points to the bracket, they now had 550 points total for the season. Thanks to our high scoring win against Hufflepuff, Gryffindor had a total of 580 points, barely more than Slytherin.

As we made our way back up to the castle, Zara and Bree waylaid me and pulled me away from James, who looked a bit put out, but wandered off with Richard, Gareth, and some members of his family.

"I don't mean to pry, Eva, really I don't," Bree said anxiously. "But…are the rumors true?"

I regarded her with a measure of confusion. There were countless rumors flying about the castle. This was Hogwarts after all. I had heard one just this morning that Gemma's younger brother, Euan, had set Professor Slughorn's robes on fire. Though I was quite certain that one was true.

"Be more specific," I told her.

"That you broke up with Jonathan because you wanted to start dating James, of course," Zara filled me in, staring at me as though I had tentacles growing out of my head.

I was going to punch whoever started that rumor in the face. And that was no longer a completely empty threat.

"No, of course not!" I protested. "Jonathan broke up with me because we weren't right for each other and I didn't fancy him the way I should have."

"But you were sitting with James's arm around you," Bree said, her forehead furrowing in confusion.

"We're just mates," I said firmly. I stepped around a hole in the path to avoid spraining my ankle.

Looking at the expression on Zara's face, it kind of seemed as though she was trying her best not to pull out her wand and jinx me. I felt as though perhaps I should have been concerned.

"Eva, love," she said in a very resolute voice. "I realize that you're pretty new at this whole going out/boy thing…but I'm going to tell you something important and I want you to take it to heart: _Friends don't do things like that_."

Bree nodded knowingly. "She's right, you know."

Huh.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I woke up bright and early on Sunday morning to go for a much needed run. I had been skiving off a bit due to the never-ending mountain of schoolwork that the professors had been assigning us. My last few essays for Herbology had been lacking considering I could no longer use Jonathan as a proofreader and fact-checker.

I still sat next to Jonathan in Herbology and we worked together potting and caring for plants, but the days of easy conversation between us were over. We still talked to each other, but I felt awkward being too friendly with him considering that I had hurt him and he was trying to get over me.

Then there was the matter of Lily and Richard. Roxanne had informed me that she would plan something and let me know concerning that ridiculous girls' night gathering I was supposed to participate in. Ugh. But as long as Sorcha and Gemma weren't in attendance, I supposed that I could live with it.

As I made my way back up to the castle, I saw Lyra Rinaldi and the Slytherin team approaching me, presumably on the way down to the pitch to practice. If the steely look on Rinaldi's face meant anything, her strategy for their next match was going to be to absolutely obliterate Hufflepuff.

"Get out of the way, Wood," she instructed me with cool detachment. "You're blocking the whole path."

I felt the anger I associated with the sight of her face well up inside of me. She really shouldn't have been so rude to me considering the last time we spoke I punched her in the face and broke her nose.

"Interesting match yesterday," I told her, trying to sound as ironic as I could. "You're still behind Gryffindor in the standings."

A few of the Slytherin team members muttered angrily among themselves. Perhaps I was jeopardizing my own safely by purposefully throwing their points in her face and the faces of all of the Slytherins now standing directly in front of me.

"Ravenclaw is going to stomp all over your pathetic excuse for a Quidditch team," Rinaldi sneered caustically. "And after we take down Hufflepuff, Slytherin will be the ones with the Cup and you'll be watching from the sidelines – again - with the knowledge that you're a shite captain."

Oh, Merlin she did not just say that. I opened my mouth to tell Rinaldi to bugger off, but to my extreme surprise someone beat me to it.

"Oh, shut up, Rinaldi," Malfoy said, his cool, grey eyes looking supremely bored.

A couple of the Slytherins at the back of group sniggered and Rinaldi's face flooded with color and rage. I had never experienced the sensation of wanting to hug a Slytherin before, but in that moment I found that I wanted to throw my arms around Scorpius Malfoy and tell him that he was the most marvelous person ever for telling off Rinaldi.

"_Sorry_?" she gasped, "but where do _you_ get off telling _me _to shut up?" She was clearly not used to having Malfoy - or any of the other Slytherins for that matter - speak to her like that.

Malfoy seemed unfazed by this. "You don't own me," he told her flatly. "You may be the captain, but we're not on the pitch right now."

Rinaldi's mouth dropped open in shock. I tried not to laugh at the comical expression on her face, really I did. Unfortunately, I didn't have much success with that.

Her head whipped around to glare at me as she heard my somewhat stifled laughter passing through my lips. I could tell by the gleam in her eyes that she was searching for something nasty to throw in my face. And naturally, since she was Lyra Rinaldi, bint extraordinaire, she found it.

"Finally gave in and shagged Potter, I see," she spat at me. "You two looked quite _cozy_ up there in the stands yesterday. I heard that's why that loser Hufflepuff ditched your sorry arse."

So instead of being the bigger person and walking away, I took an incredibly cheap shot at her. I knew it was beneath me, but Rinaldi and I had never exactly played fair when it came to insults. There was no reason to start now.

"No matter what you do," I told Lyra Rinaldi with a smirk, glancing briefly at Malfoy and then back to her, "he's _never_ going to fancy you."

Rinaldi looked well and truly shocked, and on that note, I turned on my heel and walked away. Triumph.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I had completely forgotten that Valentine's Day was only a few days away until the morning when I walked into the Great Hall and found that there was a surplus of red, white, and pink cards and flowers being exchanged. Along with some salvia among certain students inclined towards very public displays of affection, which was a sight I could have definitely done without.

"Look what Oliver gave me!" Sorcha waved a bright pink card and a long stemmed red rose in my face.

Merlin, that thing had thorns. She had better be careful how close she shoved that towards people's faces. It would just be inconsiderate to stab people with your Valentine's flowers.

"Don't stab her with it," Roxanne admonished while waving her fork in Sorcha's direction.

"You're still seeing him, then?" I asked. So Sorcha had actually been continuing to interact with a real bloke. Progress, I say.

"Oh, yes," Sorcha informed me happily. "He's wonderful. Such a nice boy. I think I'll just pop over to the Hufflepuff table and thank him properly," she added, then tried to wink but it just ended up looking like she had some sort of strange twitch.

Quite frankly, I was surprised that I hadn't developed a twitch from all of my time spent in her company. It really wasn't good for my health. At all.

Standing up, Sorcha made her way over to the Hufflepuff table and approached a boy of medium height wearing Hufflepuff robes. It was hard to make out much about him from this distance, but he had light brown hair and seemed to have pointed features. As Roxanne and I watched, Sorcha and Oliver I-Forget-His-Last-Name entangled themselves and began what looked like a tongue wrestling match.

Ack. People were trying to eat here. There should be rules about that. Well, I suppose there were, but they were difficult to enforce on a day like today.

Pulling a face of supreme disgust, Roxanne turned away and asked me, "Where's Christine?"

I shrugged. "Probably off snogging Kieran. At least they do it _in private_," I grimaced, not daring a look in the direction of the Hufflepuff table.

"Where's Gemma?" I asked, just now noticing her absence. That was strange, she typically sat with Sorcha and Roxanne.

Roxanne rolled her eyes slowly. "Making a fool out of herself with James."

I leaned forward over the table (nearly trailing my robes through my food in the process) to see Gemma sitting by James and idly chatting with him. She was twirling her dark, curly hair around an index finger and it looked as though she had made an extra special effort with her hair and makeup that morning. She was smiling widely and giggling.

James, I noted with some satisfaction, looked irritated and bored out of his mind. Why didn't she just give up on him? Hadn't she been listening when Sorcha reminded her that James had fancied someone else? Of course, it was possible that he had moved on if the girl was already dating someone.

However, from the way that Sorcha had talked, it didn't seem likely. I thought that such steadfastness on James's part was admirable, but at the same time, my chest clenched a bit at the thought that James cared so much for this girl. Who would James Potter fancy so much for so long?

She had to like Quidditch, that much I knew. His family was full of strong, clever women, so he probably respected and appreciated those traits. He didn't care for pushovers much. She definitely couldn't be a Slytherin. But then again, I never thought that Rose would be dating Scorpius Malfoy, so maybe I couldn't rule out the Slytherin possibility.

Just as I was eating a spoonful of fruit and yogurt, an unfamiliar owl swooped down and dropped a package next to me. The package was a bright white, about the size of a shoebox, but it bore no markings.

"Oooh, Eva," Roxanne squealed in excitement. "Is it a Valentine's gift?"

I all but snorted at the very idea. "Who would send me a gift? I don't have a boyfriend."

"Maybe it's from someone who wants to be," she suggested with an eager grin. "Open it!"

"What do you have there?" Christine asked as she slid into the vacant seat next to me.

"I'm not sure," I answered at the same time that Roxanne said, "We think it's a gift for Valentine's Day."

Christine looked at me curiously.

"_She_," I inclined my head in Roxanne's direction, "thinks it's a gift. _I_ do not. It's probably just a package from my parents."

"Well, go on then," said Lily, suddenly appearing on my other side. Where did she come from?

I started to open the box. "You're all going to be very disappointed when it's – " I stopped short and inhaled audibly.

"Daffodils," Christine said, peering into the box. "They're _lovely_."

Resting gently inside the box was a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils tied together with a light blue ribbon.

"They're my favorite flower," I breathed, confusion welling up inside of me. What was happening?

"Someone must know that," Lily teased me, nudging me gently with her elbow.

"The ribbon matches your eyes, Eva," Christine smiled widely.

"Is there a note?" Roxanne asked anxiously. She was leaning so far over that she was practically laying across the Gryffindor table. She also had her elbow in a plate of sausages but hadn't seemed to notice.

I looked into the box again and found a white card resting under the flowers. I pulled it out and read it. I felt my face grow pleasantly warm and my heart rate quickened.

"Can we hear what it says?" Christine asked. She spoke softly, almost as though I was some wild animal and she was trying not to startle me.

I cleared my throat and read, "You are my Golden Snitch."

There was a collective gasp of excitement, and everyone's faces broke out into wide grins.

"Oh, Eva…that's _so romantic_!" Christine sighed looking all a flutter. I never thought that people could actually look "all a flutter," but she had managed it.

Lily was positively beaming. "Golden Snitch…_clever_."

"Ladies…" Roxanne spoke up suddenly. "I don't mean to ignore Eva and her flowers, but what is going on over there?" She pointed down the table where Rose was sitting with a large bouquet of flowers and surrounded by Hugo, Al, James, and Fred. None of them looked particularly pleased.

Uh oh. That did not bode well at all.

"Who are they from?" Rose's brother Hugo demanded, thrusting out a hand to point at the flowers.

Peering closely at the bouquet Rose held in her hands, I saw that the bouquet was made up of a rather strange assortment of flowers. There appeared to be only one stem of each kind and some of them seemed to be more of a green plant than a bloom.

"There's no name attached," Rose replied calmly.

I noticed that she said that there was no name rather than she didn't know. I highly suspected that the flowers were from Scorpius. Not that other blokes couldn't send Rose Weasley flowers on Valentine's Day, but considering that they were secretly dating, that put the likelihood of them being from him through the roof.

As the boys began a discussion on how to attempt to find out just who had sent Rose the flowers, my attention was drawn back to the flowers resting on the table in front of me.

_You are my Golden Snitch_.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

A/N: According to a couple of websites I found, daffodils mean (among other things) new beginnings, unrequited love, you're the only one, and happiness. And Rose's flowers are an assortment of blooms to represent different meanings based on what Scorpius feels about her.

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! Congratulations to everyone who guessed correctly that it was Rose and Scorpius in the corridor! Quite a few people guessed right and a few remembered the small piece of foreshadowing in chapter ten. Good job! :)

**Next chapter:** Eva endures a slightly awkward Arithmancy lesson, has a fun/serious conversation with Al, attends the planned girls' night, and has an awful lot to think about!


	22. The Pieces Fall Together

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_**Chapter 22: The Pieces Fall Together**_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I walked into the Arithmancy classroom in something of a daze. Someone had sent me flowers. I had never received flowers or a Valentine before in my life. I was so used to watching others be the ones to receive those kinds of things that now that it had happened to me I didn't know what to think or do.

"You all right, Eva Louise?" Fred leaned around James to ask. He was grinning. "You look a bit peaky."

I nodded faintly as I took my spot next to James at the table that we shared.

"So, who sent you the flowers?" Christopher inquired as he unpacked his rucksack.

"I don't know."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that James was smirking. Typical. "Looks like someone fancies you."

I glanced up sharply at him. "_What_?"

James and Fred burst out laughing in unison. Christopher was kind enough not to laugh at my expense but he still looked as though he was holding back a smile.

"It hadn't occurred to you?" he asked gently.

Obviously someone had sent the flowers and note but it hadn't quite dawned on me yet that the sender would logically fancy me. Some bloke out there fancied me. Holy Hippogriffs!

But…I didn't _want_ someone to fancy me. I mean, if I had wanted anyone to fancy me I would have wanted it to have been – no, what I_ meant_ was, that I didn't want some random bloke fancying me. Sweet Merlin, the flowers could have been from anyone. They could be from a third year. Or a Slytherin. Okay, that one was unlikely, but still.

"That's ridiculous!" I ended up crying louder than intended, and as usual, earning myself a few stares from the nosy students of the class. As if I hadn't unintentionally given them enough to gossip about this year.

James blinked and cocked his head to the side as he regarded me with a strange expression. "Why is it ridiculous?"

"I don't….I mean…" I explained (sort of). "And besides…it's _me_."

"What do you mean, 'it's you'?" Fred asked, face filled with confusion. "Of course you. Why not?"

"I'm just…me. There's nothing particularly special about me except that I'm fabulous at Quidditch."

Fred rolled his eyes and slapped a hand to his forehead with a loud smack. Cheers for your subtly, Fred.

"Only you would manage to be self-effacing and arrogant all in the same sentence," James shook his head ruefully. "If you were just about any other girl, I'd say you were fishing for compliments. But you're not other girls. Never have been."

Er….was that supposed to be a compliment?

Christopher smiled at me. "And that's a good thing by the way."

I vaguely wondered what category his own girlfriend fell into.

"Eva," James told me, his voice sounding a bit strange. "You're a brilliant Quidditch player and you're very pretty. It's kind of an unstoppable combination."

I felt my heart skip a beat. Or two. James thought that I was a brilliant Quidditch player. James thought that I was very pretty.

"Oh."

Fred laughed loudly at the exact moment that Professor Vector strode into the room. She eyed him sternly before taking up her place at the front of the classroom.

I spent the remainder of the day feeling a bit distracted because I kept thinking back to the flowers, the note, and the conversation that had taken place before Arithmancy. Something about the entire situation was bothering me. Something wasn't adding up. But I wasn't certain if it was just the flowers and note or if there was more involved.

Back in Gryffindor Tower that afternoon, my twin brothers accosted me as I tried to take my rucksack up to the girls' dormitory.

"We saw you taking flowers up to your dormitory after breakfast," Richard said without pretense.

Well, hello to you too. Lessons were fine, thanks for asking.

Gareth made a face at Richard. "I thought we were going to lead into that, not just ask her outright."

"There's no point in subtly with her," Richard explained, causing me to feel slightly insulted.

Gareth shrugged in an accepting manner. "All right then. Eva – who sent you the flowers?"

"The Slytherin Quidditch team," I replied sarcastically, trying to move around them. I really, _really_ didn't want to talk about my flowers (and _that note_) with my younger brothers. I had endured far too many awkward conversations with them already this year.

"Who were they from?" Richard persisted. I could sense the pair of them dogging my steps. I spun around to face them, and as I did so, I saw that both of them were smirking. It was a rather uncharacteristic look for them, and it puzzled me.

"Do you know who sent them?" I asked.

"Do _you_ know?" Richard echoed, smirk still firmly in place.

Ugh. Brothers.

"No. I don't," I huffed. "And I believe that I've told you before to stop being nosy parkers. The flowers don't concern you."

As I climbed the girls' staircase I heard Gareth call out to me, "You're our sister – of course they concern us!"

The first thing I did when I entered the dormitory was to walk straight over to my bedside table to make certain that my flowers were still where I had left them. Before Arithmancy, I had made a quick trip back to Gryffindor Tower to put my flowers in some water. I had carefully placed the note inside the drawer of my bedside cabinet where it wouldn't become dirty or crushed.

I gently fingered one of the soft yellow daffodil petals, feeling their silky smooth texture against my skin. Daffodils were such cheerful and bright flowers. My mum grew them in the front garden at home, and they had always been my favorite.

"Checking on your flowers, I see."

I jumped slightly, taken aback. I had thought that I was alone in the dormitory, but now I saw that Christine was clearly sitting on her bed with an open book on her lap. She was watching me with extreme amusement.

"I'm just making sure they have enough water, is all," I replied somewhat stiffly.

"Oh, come off it," she said, moving off her bed and on to mine. "You're dying of curiosity."

I didn't answer for a moment as I considered the events of the day, then I admitted, "Yeah, I kind of am. It's just…who could it be?"

Christine smiled widely. "I have a theory."

"If you tell me that you think they're from James – "

"Now why would you automatically assume I was going to say James?"

"I- I, er…" I faltered.

For months now everyone had been pushing me at James and saying what a fantastic couple we would make, so I supposed that I had automatically assumed that this was just another instance of that. But Christine had always been the one person who had never pressured me to fancy James.

"I suppose…" I settled on, "I'm used to second guessing my brothers and Lily. And Roxanne. And what sometimes feels like the rest of the castle."

Christine merely gave me a shrewd look. "I promised Kieran that I would spend some time with him this evening since it's a romantic holiday and all, but when I come back, we're going to talk about this, yeah?"

"I'd rather not," I told her honestly.

In response, she leaned over and pulled me into a hug. "It's okay to be confused, you know," she whispered.

After she had left, I pulled out the note from my bedside cabinet and read it again for what seemed like about the twentieth time. _You are my Golden Snitch_.

Placing the card delicately back inside of the drawer of my bedside table, I pulled out a piece of parchment and began a letter to my mum.

_Dear Mum,_

_I'm sure that Richard and Gareth have written to tell you, but Jonathan broke up with me. I suspect that Dad is thrilled considering he didn't like the idea of Jonathan. I'm not upset at all by the break up, and I'm a little bothered by the fact that I'm not upset. Does that make any sense?_

_Jonathan is a really wonderful bloke – the kind that a lot of others girls dream of, but I just couldn't fancy him the way I should. I tried to pretend that it was okay that he didn't like Quidditch but it wasn't. I spent a lot of time comparing him to this other boy who likes Quidditch a lot but I didn't mean to. I didn't even realize that I was doing it at first. Now I'm just confused. _

_I'm not entirely certain what this letter is even about anymore. _

_Quidditch practice is going well. Slytherin beat Ravenclaw in the last match, which puts them only thirty points behind us in the standings. Thank goodness Gryffindor did so well against Hufflepuff. I have to admit that I'm a bit worried about what the standings will be like once Slytherin beats Hufflepuff. I'm trying not to worry about it too much and just focus on making certain that my team is ready, but it's hard to keep it completely out of my mind._

_Love,_

_Eva_

_P.S. Please don't show Dad this letter. I think I would die of embarrassment. _

As I made my way to the West Tower to the owlery to send my letter, I must have passed a dozen couples snogging in the corridors. The Prefects certainly had their work cut out for them this evening.

Pushing open the door to the owlery, I discovered Al Potter standing in the middle of the circular room examining a very old and wrinkled piece of parchment.

"Hi, Al," I said as Waffle swooped down from a high perch to settle on my shoulder.

Al jumped about a foot in the air and paled slightly at the sight of me.

"Eva, I didn't see – I mean hear you coming," he hastily muttered something and tapped the parchment before folding it up and stuffing it into the pocket of his robes.

I fished around in the pocket of my robes for an owl treat, which I then fed to Waffle. I tied the letter to my mum to his leg, and he spread his wings and flew off into the night.

"So what's so secret about that parchment?" I asked. He had acted so strange that I found myself unreasonably curious. See, I _could_ notice things.

"Nothing," he answered quickly. "It's uh…a new product from Uncle George's shop. Yeah. It's still being tested."

I had the distinct impression that I was being lied to. Al seemed to sense my lack of belief, and added, "Here – I'll show you."

He retrieved the parchment from his pocket and held it out to me. I took it with some reluctance. Back in third and fourth year when James and Fred were fond of pulling pranks on me, I had become quite familiar with some of the products of George Weasley's shop.

I turned the piece of parchment over in my hands, examining it. "It's blank," I concluded.

Al grinned suddenly. "Tap it once with your wand and tell it that you command it to reveal its secrets."

I raised a wary eyebrow at him but he only nodded encouragingly. I supposed that I could trust Al Potter. Now if it were Fred handing me this, it would have been an entirely different story.

"I command you to reveal your secrets," I said, feeling a bit silly as I tapped the map with my wand. But to my surprise, ink seemed to well up from the parchment almost at once. As I looked closer, I saw that the ink was forming words.

"_Surely you can do better than that. I would expect better of first years," _I read. Al laughed.

But there were more words forming on the parchment. "_Don't embarrass yourself like this_," followed by, "_Be a little more creative and perhaps we'll give you some hints,_" and "_Do_ _you even call that trying_?"

'"It's just trick parchment - see?" Al said, taking it from my hands and stuffing it back into his robes. "Are you going back to the common room? I'll walk with you."

We were chatting about Quidditch League rankings when suddenly during a pause in conversation, Al asked "Eva…can I ask your advice on something?"

"Oh, er, of course," I answered feeling distinctly awkward. Nobody ever asked my advice about things except if they were related to Quidditch.

"See, I have this… friend," he said, running a hand worriedly through his jet black hair. "And I think this friend may be hiding something important from me. But if they're hiding what I think they are, I don't want them to feel as though they should have to hide it. Does that make sense?"

It actually sounded a bit familiar. "You're asking if you should meddle, aren't you?"

"Yes," he admitted with a slight look of chagrin.

Ha, I knew it. That whole family was one big lot of meddlers. It was as though it was embedded into their genetic makeup and they couldn't help themselves.

"You're willing to meddle in James's life all of the time. What makes this situation different?" I wondered out loud.

Al cracked a small smile. "James is my brother; nothing is off limits with him. But this friend…it's what I think they're hiding that's making me hesitate."

I thought about his question for a moment, then said, "I'm not much good at advice, but I would say that if you absolutely must meddle, just assure the person with the secret that you're not going to go blabbing it all over the castle."

He nodded solemnly, obviously deep in thought. We walked in silence, but as we rounded the corner that led to the portrait hole, I nearly collided with Rose Weasley who was coming from the other direction. Her hair was a bit disheveled and her lips were more pink than usual.

"Rose, I need to talk to you," Al told her in a quiet yet firm voice. He took her by the elbow and steered her back down the corridor leaving me standing alone.

As I watched them walk away, it suddenly occurred to me that Rose and Scorpius hadn't fooled Al into thinking that they were merely study partners after all.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

The very next morning, Waffle brought me a response from Mum. It seemed she had thought that the matter required serious and immediate attention.

_Dear Eva,_

_I know I've told you the story of how I met your father, but I think a retelling is in order. It might help you to think about your situation a bit differently._

_When I first met your father, he was just beginning his career on the Puddlemere main team. I was a young Quidditch reporter, and I was sent to write a story on Puddlemere's new Keeper. Eva, after one twenty-minute interview, I was determined that he was the last man that I would ever want to be with. I couldn't stand him. I thought he was arrogant and full of puffed-up, unreasonable pride, I thought he was pig-headed (well, I was correct about that one!) and so concerned with Quidditch that he didn't pay attention to anything else._

_But even though I had decided that I thoroughly disliked him (and had written a rather unflattering article about him) he had apparently taken a fancy to me. He told me later that he couldn't get me off of his mind. At first, I didn't notice his interest because he went about pursuing me so clumsily that he often unintentionally instigated a row or insulted me. However, he figured it out in the end, and I was able to see that I had misjudged him._

_Sometimes, Eva, your mind doesn't know what your heart wants. It can be right under your nose all along and you never notice until something happens to make you see the situation in a different light._

_Much love,_

_Mum_

_Really, mum?_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Do we have to go?" I groaned as Christine and I made our way down the stairs to the fifth year girls' dormitory. It had been determined that Sorcha and Gemma were least likely to find us spending time without them if we hung out in Lily's dormitory.

"You said you would," she whispered back. "Besides, this is for Richard."

Bugger, she had me there. I was going to go through with this girls' night thing for the sake of meddling in Richard's life. There were already far too many people taking it upon themselves to meddle right now, and what was I doing? Adding to the problem. Brilliant.

"Oh good, you didn't back out," Lily said as we opened the door. Roxanne stood behind her. "Rose will be here in a moment – she went down to the kitchens to find some snacks."

"Gryffindors don't back out of things," I replied. Judging by the disapproving look Christine cast my way, I hadn't managed to keep my slight grumpiness out of my voice.

I didn't know where all of Lily's dorm mates had gone, but they were nowhere to be found.

Lily must have seen me glancing around, because she said, "The only other place we could think of isn't an option when there isn't 'real need.' I asked the other girls to clear out for a while. I told them it was a matter of life and death."

The door opened again and this time Rose walked through. "Oh, good, you came," she said when she spotted me.

Seriously?Did _no one_ have any faith in me?

Rose pulled the rucksack off of her shoulder, and opening it, took out a bag of chocolate frogs, a large package of biscuits, and several bottles of butterbeer.

We settled ourselves onto the floor in a sort of circle and Christine transfigured some quills into pillows for us. Rose set out the food in the center of the circle.

"So," Roxanne said, diving right into things. "Liam Greenfield asked me to the next Hogsmeade trip."

"Isn't he a sixth year?" Lily asked as she bit into a chocolate biscuit.

Roxanne shrugged nonchalantly. "Girls date boys who are older all the time. Why shouldn't I date a younger bloke?"

Lily seemed to consider this for a moment, then nodded. "True."

"Did you say yes?" Rose asked.

Roxanne nodded. "I thought it might be fun. He's a really funny bloke and not bad to look at. Are you going to go with Lysander again, Lily?"

Wow, I had to admire Roxanne's skill at navigating the conversation. At first I thought she was simply breaking the ice, but now it was apparent that she had also planned to bring up who Lily was interested in. It was genius, really.

Lily looked indecisive. "I dunno… I mean, we've been friends for so long that it was strange to be on a date with him. And then with Luna being friends with mum and dad….he's nice."

"Trust me, there has to be something more than _nice _involved," I said before I really knew what I was saying. I hadn't meant to say that, but hearing Lily talk that way had reminded me of myself and all of my excuses for going out with Jonathan.

All of the other girls stared at me.

"Good for you," Christine finally said, offering me a chocolate frog.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking the proffered chocolate and stuffing it in my mouth to keep from saying anything else.

"So if not Lysander, do you have someone in mind?" Rose was clearly trying not to smile, but she was failing.

Lily's face grew a bit pink. "Well…there's this one boy that I think might fancy me and I think I might fancy him back. It's hard to tell how he feels because he's a bit shy. But strangely enough, I like that about him."

"Name?" Roxanne prompted.

"Richard," she answered, not quite meeting my eye.

"Oh, that's a huge relief," I said and tossed Lily a chocolate frog. "He fancies you too, just ask him to Hogsmeade."

Her face turned an even darker shade of pink. "How do _you_ know?" she asked me curiously.

"Can't I know things about my own brother?"

I could have sworn I heard crickets chirping.

"Oh, fine," I admitted grumpily. "James and Al told me."

"Ah ha," Christine said. "_Now_ it makes sense."

I shoved her off of her pillow in response.

"I have something to say," Rose spoke up suddenly after keeping quiet for the last several minutes. Now her face was a bit pale, which made her freckles stand out and her voice was a bit shaky. However, she looked determined and I knew what was coming.

"I'msortofdatingsomeone," she said, the words rushed together and nearly indistinguishable. Nearly being the key word.

"_What_?" Roxanne all but screeched. "And you didn't tell us?"

"Who?" Lily asked, clearly puzzled.

"Promise you won't be angry?"

"Er…do you want us to leave for this?" Christine asked a bit hesitantly, throwing me a concerned glance.

Rose shook her head. "Eva already knows. You might as well hear it too."

Roxanne's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "_Eva_ knows? I mean… _how_?" She looked curiously at me for answers, but I looked to Rose.

"She uh…caught us erm, kissing in a corridor." Poor Rose's face was positively flaming with embarrassment.

"Classy." Roxanne took a long drink of her butterbeer.

"Promise you won't be angry?" Rose repeated. I felt badly for her as I watched her twist her fingers anxiously and nibble on her lower lip. She was clearly incredibly nervous, and for good reason. Weasleys just didn't go around dating Malfoys. There was just so much bad blood between the families.

"Why would we be angry?" Lily asked gently.

Roxanne's face had begun to take on a look of suspicion. I wasn't certain if it was a good sign or not. I shared a worried glance with Christine.

"Because it's Scorpius Malfoy."

There was dead silence. Absolute dead silence.

I met Rose's eyes and I gave her a small smile and nod of encouragement. Merlin knew she needed it. She gave me a miniscule smile in response, but I took it as a good sign.

She sat up a little taller and her voice became firmer. "He's not what you think. I fancy him and he fancies me and that's all that matters."

"I can't believe you get to snog him," Lily finally said after a long pause, a trace of envy in her voice. Lily's comment broke the ice and everyone started laughing.

"Yeah…" Rose sighed happily. Even though she was sitting in front of me, her mind was clearly a million miles away. Or at least as far away as the Slytherin common room.

"I think it's brilliant. Really," Christine told her, raising her butterbeer bottle to Rose.

"Malfoy?" Roxanne said, her tone filled with wonder. "How did _that_ happen?"

That was what I had been wondering too.

Rose pushed her flaming red hair out of her bright red face. "In September, we both needed the same library book for a Herbology assignment. I was just about to take it off the shelf when he reached up and snatched it first and we argued over it a bit before he offered to share. Then I kept running into him in the library and we started studying together because we're the top of the class. Then after the Christmas holiday when we were looking for a book, he…he kissed me. He told me that he'd fancied me since we were fifth years, but he never knew how to talk to me. He was coming to the library on purpose, trying to work up the courage to speak to me."

"I can't believe I thought you were just studying with him because he was clever and you challenged each other," Lily muttered. She sounded a terribly disappointed in herself for not noticing. She should join the club.

"Al studied with us a lot," Rose said, "and he figured it out. I think he suspected for a long time. He confronted me about it a couple of nights ago."

Christine selected another biscuit. "Was he upset?"

Rose shook her head. "Because he's been studying with us, he's got to know Scorpius. I wouldn't call them friends, exactly, but they're on good terms."

"So when did you realize that you fancied Malfoy?" Lily queried.

Once again, Rose's face flushed bright pink. Even her neck and ears colored pink. "Ever since that first argument over the book."

Even I as a not very romantically inclined girl had to admit that was rather sweet.

"So how are you going to tell the rest of your family?" Christine asked.

Rose grimaced slightly. "No idea. It's just…I mean, we were all raised to believe in House equality and I wouldn't be worried if it were any other Slytherin, but Scorpius is a Malfoy. His dad and his grandfather were Death Eaters and his great aunt tortured my mum in their drawing room."

"His grandmum also saved _my_ dad's life, you know," Lily reminded her gently.

"I know." She still sounded worried.

"Thanks for telling us," Roxanne added. "That was brave of you. I mean, I'm not exactly certain how I feel about it yet, but it's your life. We'll deal with the boys another day. Al's already taken care of, so it's really just James, Fred, and Hugo. Everyone else won't care. Or if they do, tell them to bugger off!"

Rose slowly rolled her bright blue eyes. "Ugh, I don't even want to think about it. Let's change the subject. So, Eva, any boys on the horizon for you?"

I started, taken aback by how quickly the conversation had turned on me. It appeared that Rose was also quite good at this whole conversation directing thing.

I shook my head. "No, I need to focus on Quidditch. The match against Ravenclaw will be here before I know it and there's so much to prepare for."

Even as I said the words, I thought of James. James, throwing me his typical smirk and throwing his arm casually around my shoulders.

"Eva…" Lily groaned as she let her head fall forward onto her pillow.

"I'm sorry, but we have to practice!" I defended myself, a bit hotly. "We _have to win_ in order to be in the running for the Cup!"

Lily mumbled something and the other girls laughed, though I didn't see what was so funny. Especially considering that we couldn't even make out what Lily was saying. What rubbish.

"There's no one that you at least think is cute? Fit? Hot?" Roxanne prodded with a bit of a sly smile.

An image of a shirtless James flashed suddenly though my mind and I felt my face grow warm. Merlin, he _was_ a fit bloke.

"There _is_!" Roxanne crowded in triumph as she took in my red face. She pointed at me excitedly as though to further prove her point.

Why does my skin coloring always have to betray me so? If I had skin like Roxanne, no one would be able to tell if I was blushing to the roots of my hair.

Lily's head rose from her pillow and Christine's chin slipped off of her elbow.

"I'm _not_ saying," I said simply grabbing a chocolate frog and taking a huge bite. I was going to have to take an extra long run the next morning to make up for all of the chocolate I'd been consuming.

"Does he play Quidditch?" Roxanne pried.

Lily nodded assuredly. "He has to. This is Eva."

"Yeah, but look at that Grant bloke," Roxanne countered. "He didn't like Quidditch."

Oh, yes. Let's just drag that up again, shall we? Ugh.

"But that didn't work out."

"Well, he at least has to like Quidditch, then."

"I'm not saying anything," I repeated stubbornly.

"Christine, do you know?"

She raised her hands in a show of innocence. "I'm sworn to the bonds of best friend silence."

This seemed to be an adequate excuse among the other girls and they turned their intrusive questions back to me. How fortunate.

"Does he have brown hair?" Roxanne queried.

"Not saying."

"Blonde?"

No response.

"Black?"

Like charcoal. It looked soft too. But I wasn't going to say so, not out loud at any rate. "Not saying."

"Is it the sender of the flowers and note?"

"I don't even know who sent those," I logically pointed out.

From there on, the questions became progressively sillier, as the girls branched out into whether or not he carried a rucksack, did he like pumpkin juice, did he collect seashells, was it that adorably cute fifth year on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Those questions I answered because those were safe enough.

"Does he have a tattoo of a Snitch?" Lily asked out of the blue.

"How do you know about that?" I asked, but then froze as I realized what I had just said. Oh, Holy Hippogriffs. Good job I wasn't planning to become an Auror; I would have failed interrogation miserably. They had lulled me into a sense of security by asking me questions that I would answer and then caught me off guard. That was just plain unfair.

Lily's mouth dropped open in a rather comical fashion. "I'm his sister, that's how I know! How do _you_ know?!"

"James has a tattoo?" Rose gasped in shock. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Best news ever!" Roxanne cried happily. Her eyes had gone exceptionally wide. It was slightly disconcerting, to tell the truth.

Christine grinned and nodded happily. Apparently the bonds of best friend silence no longer applied considering I had accidentally admitted to finding James attractive. Bugger.

I tried protesting, but none of the girls seemed to be listening to me. They were too busy grinning from ear to ear and nattering on about what I had accidentally reveled and I caught words like, "adorable!" "Quidditch" "knew it!"

"Christine, you are a traitor of the worst sort," I shot her a side-long glare.

In response she gave me a cheesy grin. "They've been waiting for this for ages. Let them enjoy it."

"Wait!" Lily yelled and everyone stopped talking at once. "How do you know about James's tattoo?" she asked. She looked flabbergasted, but she was also grinning.

I dropped my face into my hands. "Quidditch."

"She walked in on him shirtless one morning when they were both early to practice," Christine supplied.

Roxanne hadn't stopped grinning for nearly three solid minutes. I would think that her face would to begin to hurt if she kept it up. Lily could also have stood to give her facial muscles a break.

"Why do you want me to date James so badly?" I asked suddenly. I didn't know why – it was a perfectly logical question – but I had never thought to question why James's family seemed so incredibly intent on me going out with him.

The three members of James's family exchanged glances. Lily bit her lip and appeared to be determining her answer. "Because I like you," she said finally, after some thought. "We all do. The family, I mean. And you'd be good for each other. Why do you think so many people have said that you and James would do well as a couple? Just think on it. Please?"

I scrunched my eyes shut and held my hands over them, blocking everyone out. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling anymore, all right? Just…things have changed so much and I'm not sure what to think."

I felt Christine's arm slide around my shoulders. "It's okay to be confused," she told me, repeating what she had said a few days ago.

I sighed in relief, grateful for my best friend.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Think on it. They had said to think on it. So here I was, thinking about it. My mind was so much clearer when I was running. I usually focused on Quidditch, but today I thought about something I would never have considered a few months prior.

I thought about everything that had been said the evening before about James and about how I had spilled the beans over my attraction to James all because I was tricked into acknowledging his tattoo.

His tattoo. His tattoo of a Golden Snitch because he loved being a Seeker. A_ Seeker_…_Golden Snitch…_

My mind quickly ran through the other House's Seekers – Malfoy was dating Rose, Hufflepuff's was a girl, and Roxanne was going to Hogsmeade with Greenfield from Ravenclaw.

_You are my Golden Snitch_…It was something a Seeker would say. My mind buzzed with the implications. Was it possible that all this time…

But Gemma and Sorcha had said that James had fancied a girl for a long time and that it didn't appear that he was giving up on her anytime soon. And yet…everyone (except Gemma, that was) had been telling me all term that James and I would make a good couple. There had to be a reason for this idea didn't there? Could it be that there was more reason than simply because his family liked me and we both liked Quidditch? Could it be because… James Potter _fancied _me and they all knew it?

I stopped running so quickly that I came close to toppling over and rolling down the bank into the Great Lake. The Giant Squid waved a tentacle lazily in my direction as if to tell me to be more careful.

In my mind, images of all our interactions over the course of the year so far sped through my mind as though I was quickly flipping through a photo album. He had held me while I cried over the lost match to Slytherin. Told me to call him James. Showed me the playbook he had never shown to anyone. Disliked Jonathan for no apparent reason. Called me a brilliant Quidditch player. Told me I was very pretty.

What was it that Zara and Bree had said? "_Friends don't do things like that_."

I felt warmth spreading throughout my body and my heart began racing like mad as I realized what had been right in front of my face for ages now. James had said that I didn't notice things that were right under my nose. We had been talking about Richard fancying Lily, but had he also been referring to how he felt about me?

I brought my cool hands up to my cheeks to discover that they were rather warm. Everywhere felt warm and tingly and I felt almost…giddy. Unable to stop myself, I giggled loudly as I spun happily in a circle. I had never acted like this before; I had always left that up to girls like Sorcha and Gemma. But then I had never experienced these particular emotions before. Certainly not over any of my celebrity Quidditch crushes and it had never been this way with Jonathan.

A realization struck me like a sharp bolt of lightning and I abruptly stopped in mid twirl.

"Holy Hippogriffs," I gasped aloud.

I set off in a dead run towards the castle. I don't think that I had ever run so quickly in my life. I only slowed down for the doors to the castle, a moving staircase, and the portrait hole. I tore through the common room, nearly bowling over an extremely confused Bree and Nico.

Throwing open the door to the dormitory, I saw that everyone else but Christine had gone down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Thank _Merlin._

"Christine…" I panted, grasping the doorframe for support after my run from the lake, through the castle, and up the stairs.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice worried as she took in my flustered and harried state.

"I fancy James Potter."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**A/N:** I'm now in grad school, so my time devoted to writing is rather reduced. Unfortunately, this means there will be a bit slower updates from here on out. But don't worry – I will never abandon this story! I have it fully plotted; I know exactly where it's going and exactly how I'm getting there. I'm thinking "Game On" will be around thirty chapters.

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! So Eva has finally realized that she fancies James! About time, right? How excited are you? I know I'm pretty thrilled to have finally reached this point in the story! What will Eva do about her newfound realization?

**Next chapter:** Christine reacts, Sorcha has a moment of sanity, James and Eva eat breakfast in the locker room, and there are some things that need to be said (but what are they?). :)


	23. The Students of Hogwarts Were Correct

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_**Chapter 23: The Students of Hogwarts Were Correct**_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

It took Christine all of a half of a second to respond to my declaration that I fancied James Potter. She squealed loudly, jumped off of her bed, and threw her arms happily around me.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew!" she chanted, sounding positively ecstatic about the news. "I'm _so pleased_ that you've figured it out."

"Of course you knew," I sighed heavily. "I expect everyone knew but me."

Christine pulled away but put her hands firmly on my shoulders and looked me directly in the eyes. "James doesn't know."

"James _does_ fancy me doesn't he?" I questioned just to be certain. "I haven't imagined that?"

If possible, Christine seemed even more pleased by this revelation. "Oh, you've realized that as well?"

"About ten minutes ago," I admitted with a small smile. "When I realized that he must fancy me I was just so…so _incredibly happy_. And a girl doesn't feel that way for no reason. That strange feeling I have in my stomach when I'm around him finally made sense. I'd just never felt that way before; I didn't recognize it."

Of course I found James attractive – what witch in their right mind wouldn't? But I didn't just look forward to seeing him because I thought he was fit; I wanted to spend time with him because I enjoyed being around him. He was surprisingly easy to talk to and I felt as though he understood me like no one outside of my family and Christine did.

Christine actually looked to be on the verge of tears and her smile was practically splitting her face. The only other time I'd seen her so happy was when Kieran had finally worked up the courage to ask her out. It was a bit much if you asked me, but then I had giggled and twirled in a circle. Who was I to judge?

"How are you going to let him know?"

I stared at her incredulously. "I've only just realized that I fancy the bloke and you want me to go running off right now and tell him?"

Christine stared intently right back at me. "_Yes_."

"I can't do that!"

She took a deep breath and steered me over to sit on my bed. As we settled down on top of the crumpled duvet she said, "Eva, James cares about you a lot. He's waited a long time for you to feel something for him as well. _You need to tell him_."

"But…I…" I stammered rather incoherently.

"What do you like about him?" Christine prompted me.

Forget wizarding archeology and preservation - Christine should have seriously considered a career as a psychiatrist. For as often as she talks me down and gives me advice, she should really be charging me a fee…

"Well," I began slowly. "He's nothing like I thought. He's not arrogant; he's confident in his abilities and who he is. He's not afraid to argue with me or to have a different opinion. I like that he's not intimidated by my Quidditch abilities. Even when we fought all the time, we did respect each other's abilities. Even it was deep down sometimes. I dunno…we know each really well. Because somehow even through the arguing…I like being with him. I look forward to talking to him. And naturally I like that he loves Quidditch," I added with a grin.

She fixed me with a firm look. "All right, good. Think about it this way: you fancy him, yeah?"

I frowned. "I just told you I did."

"So you fancy him, and he fancies you. _Then what's the problem_?"

"Isn't it a bit soon? I've only just realized how I feel!"

"If you both fancy each other, there doesn't need to be anything complicated about it, Eva. Just ask him to go to Hogsmeade or to study or something."

I privately wondered whether James and I could ever manage to do 'uncomplicated.' But what Christine was saying did make a lot of sense. We both fancied each other – wasn't the logical conclusion to do something about it?

Then from the back of my mind a terrible thought occurred to me. James still didn't know about what Sean O'Mara had told me when I saw him over Christmas holiday. Oh, bugger.

"I _can't_," I breathed, feeling a stab of pain in my chest. I had felt so blissful just a few minutes ago but now all I could feel was guilt and worry.

"_Eva_, she groaned in exasperation.

"No, no," I amended, "I mean, I can't until I tell him about what Sean said to me. He deserves to know we were tied for captain. He deserves to know that I'm the captain because Sean fancied me."

Christine bit her lip. "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm not certain he would want to know."

"_I_ would want to know," I argued.

Christine regarded me with a solemn look. "Would you? You would want to be told that you were denied the thing you wanted most in the world not because of any skills or leadership qualities that you personally lacked, but because your former captain was such a massive sod that he chose someone else because he fancied them?"

Well, when she put it like that…._no,_ _I wouldn't_. But…

"I have to tell him. I can't start… _something_ with James if I'm keeping secrets from him. Even if I didn't have _these_ feelings for him, I would still need to tell him. He would tell me. I just… I can't do it today. I need a little time to sort out my feelings and to know if this is what I want."

"Just don't take too long," Christine warned. "He's been waiting a while and now that you're free…"

I nodded as I considered her words. "I won't. Promise."

The door swung open and Sorcha waltzed in closely followed by Gemma.

"Eva! Look what just came in the post from my sister!" Sorcha held out (yet another) vintage magazine featuring my dad on the cover. "And look at the photo shoot!" she gasped, practically thrusting the magazine towards me.

I tried not to look, really I did, but she had surprisingly quick reflexes. The photograph was one of the earliest from his appointment to the main team and before he had had any say over his publicity. He was standing on the pitch, leaning against his broomstick, and naturally, he was shirtless. And to make it even worse, the makeup team had artistically smeared dirt across his cheeks and chest.

I flopped back on my bed and dug the palms of my hand into my eyes. "Merlin, go show someone who _isn't_ his daughter! _Gaahhh_!"

"Gemma, isn't he gorgeous?"

_Why me?_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I hadn't admitted it to anyone other than my mum in my letter home, but I was worried about our match against Ravenclaw. I wasn't doubting my team; I had every confidence in them. But the total points and standings were making me nervous. Slytherin wasn't trailing Gryffindor by much at all. Our upcoming match against Ravenclaw was shaping up to be incredibly intense.

The plays that Richard and I had formulated before Christmas holiday were mostly working well for our team, but a few of them did need to some attention before we faced Ravenclaw. The plays were good now, but they needed to be great.

The wind was cool and the sky extremely cloudy as I made my way down to the pitch. There hadn't been any particular reason for me arriving to practice early besides the fact that I had woken up about forty minutes earlier than usual. Once I was awake, I started thinking about practice, and practice made me think of the next match (even though it wasn't for ages), and by then I just couldn't sleep anymore. Things made sense at the pitch, so that was where I went.

As I took out my broom, I looked it over. A few twigs were out of line, so I selected my favorite pair of twig clippers and set to work.

I was just carefully placing the clippers back in my locker when the door to the locker rooms swung open. James Potter, the bloke who had fancied me - and who I fancied back - was standing right there in front of me. What a morning to let it slip my mind that James also arrived early to practice to run, do other exercises, or stretch. Bugger.

"You're _early_." His voice was full of surprise.

I reached into my locker and threw a pair of Chasers gloves at him, which he caught easily and lobbed back in my general direction. I snatched them out of the air with one hand and tossed them behind my back, without looking, into my locker.

James wrinkled his nose. "Show off."

"Don't be angry just because you can't do it."

"Psh," he scoffed in derision. "I could do it with my eyes closed."

It turned out that he could. But so could I, so we were even.

James smiled at me, and for the first time, I was able to see that when he smiled at me like that there was something – _something more_ – behind his brown eyes. That look made my stomach contort in the strangest of ways. But it was also a nice feeling. Strange, that.

"Eva, I need to – " James began, but just then the door to the locker rooms burst open and Zara rushed in looking dazed.

"You all right?" James asked her, forehead furrowed slightly.

"Nico just asked Bree to Hogsmeade!"

"_What_?" James and I both asked at the same time.

"We were about to leave the common room when he walked up to her with a bunch of flowers and asked if she wanted to go to the next Hogsmeade visit with him."

"The next visit isn't for ages," I mulled.

"_That's_ your reaction?" Zara exasperatedly rolled her eyes. "_Merlin_, Eva!"

"I was just commenting," I sniffed and turned back to my locker.

"What did Bree say?" James asked.

"Yes, I think," Zara said. "She did mention once that she thought he was cute. It was when we were making the posters for tryouts. I suggested that we advertise your abs, and Eva said we should advertise Nico instead because it might give him a confidence boost."

"That poster is still on the wall," James said with a faint smirk.

"Because you used a permanent sticking charm and then framed me for it," I remembered suddenly. I wasn't cross about it anymore; there wasn't much reason considering the detention had been served months ago.

"Nah, Fred stuck it to the wall. I just framed you," James replied casually.

"Oh, well, that makes it all right, then. I thought Bree fancied that Sydney bloke that tried out for the team," I said as I thought back to Quidditch tryouts. "She wanted him on the team because she fancied him."

Zara snorted with amusement. "Yeah…she asked him to go on the first Hogsmeade trip but it turned out that he already had a boyfriend. Not much point in fancying a bloke who's incapable of fancying you back."

"No, probably not," I agreed.

The door swung open and Bree and Nico walked in together. Bree looked a bit pink in the face. Nico was practically swaggering with confidence.

"Spot on, Little Chap!" Zara told him by way of congratulation.

Nico seemed beyond words. All he could do was grin widely.

Once everyone had arrived and changed into their practice kit, I picked up a piece of chalk and wrote several numbers on the board.

"All right," I told them. "I've examined the points bracket and here are the current standings: Gryffindor is in first with 580, but Slytherin isn't far behind with 550. Ravenclaw has 500 and Hufflepuff has 250."

"Poor Hufflepuff," commented Nico, shaking his head sadly. "Just like the Canons."

"Slytherin is going to positively steamroll Hufflepuff," Zara said.

James nodded. "Hufflepuff's Seeker isn't much good, and I'll bet Rinaldi tells Malfoy to hold off on catching the Snitch to allow them time to score more goals. If Slytherin can beat Hufflpuff by enough more than we beat Ravenclaw, they'll take the Cup."

"That _cannot _happen."

Cheers, Richard.

"We won't let it," Lily agreed with a smile in my brother's direction. He smiled back a bit hesitantly, his cheeks slightly pink. I could see what James had meant now. Once again, how nice of me to catch on.

I turned back to the rest of the team. "Slytherin got lucky in the last match – if Greenfield hadn't thrown himself off balance like that, he would have caught the Snitch before Malfoy. James is leagues above Greenfield when it comes to talent. But all the same, we're going to have to play exceptionally well if we don't want Slytherin beating us in the points bracket."

Outside on the pitch, I told everyone to stretch, run ten laps around the pitch, and then to complete a series of push-ups and crunches. Following that, I assigned drills to each group of players. The Chasers needed to work on our modified Hawkshead Attacking Formation and I set Zara and Nico to working on their Bludger backbeats and to give James practice dodging Bludgers.

"Let's run that again," I instructed Bree and Lily. "I think we can be a bit quicker about rotating positions to confuse the other team."

We flew back to the other side of the pitch and began the play again. I was in the center with Bree slightly below on my left and Lily slightly below on my right as we barreled down the length of the pitch. At center field, each of us rotated one position to the left and as we neared the goal posts, I threw the Quaffle horizontally to Bree. She caught the Quaffle, flew into the scoring area, and managed to score on Richard. It was exactly how I had imagined the play.

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed. "Now you two work with Richard on feinting while I go and see how the others are doing."

James, Zara, and Nico were doing well except for the fact that Zara was spending just as much time teasing Nico for his unexpected crush on Bree as on practicing.

"You lot!" I called in my best captain voice as I flew over and pulled my broom up sharply next to James. "Get back to work!"

"All right, Captain," Zara said with a small smirk. She even offered me a small salute.

"Show me your backbeats," I told them and watched in turn as Nico and Zara demonstrated what they had been practicing.

Two Bludgers came whizzing through the air directly at our heads causing James and me to both perform barrel rolls.

"Impressive," I said to my Beaters, feeling pleased. "Good work."

"You two did that in unison – _that's_ impressive!" Nico gaped at us open mouthed.

James glanced at me with a smirk and I smiled back. It turned out that we worked well as a team. I wished that I had realized that sooner instead of trying to out fly him at every opportunity. I mean, it was still fun to do it teasingly, but it was nice not to be such extreme rivals. This way we could still push each other and motivate each other to be better without the extreme competition.

I had everyone practice dodging Bludgers for a bit before I declared that practice was over and we could head for the showers.

I was pulling back my still damp hair, about to walk out of the locker rooms, when I heard James's voice behind me.

"Eva?"

I turned to see him standing behind me, holding out a large, brightly colored orange.

"I stopped by the kitchens on my way to practice and picked up some breakfast."

I reached out and took the orange from his hand. Our skin brushed and I felt my face grow involuntarily warm at the contact. He swallowed a bit heavily and held eye contact with me. Sweet Merlin – had I really never noticed the way he looked at me? Had I been living under a rock? Had I been concussed with a Beater's Bat or something?

"Thank you," I told him, trying to keep my voice even and not let it squeak. How embarrassing would _that_ have been? I sat down on one of the benches and began peeling the orange.

As he settled down next to me on the wooden bench, he pulled another orange out of his rucksack. His close proximity made my mind a bit fuzzy.

"That modified Hawkshead Attacking Formation is really coming along," he told me as he peeled his own orange. "I was watching you three a bit when I wasn't making sure that I wasn't going to be decapitated by a Bludger."

"Richard came up with the basis for the modifications," I explained. "We were working on that play when you joined our strategy meeting, remember? When you showed me your playbook."

A small smirk formed on his face as he nodded. "You were intimidated by how amazing my playbook was. Yours just doesn't match up, I'm afraid."

"Was not," I scoffed. "And my playbook is loads better than yours."

Okay, that was a small lie. After all, his playbook _had_ been quite amazing. But naturally, I was a bit biased towards my own playbook. I had spent ages – years, actually - writing plays in it and perfecting them. I had poured my love of Quidditch into the pages of that book.

"Dream on," he teased me, taking a bite of an orange segment.

Now, I decided. I should tell him about the captaincy decision now while it was just the two of us.

"Eva, I – " James began to say, but he was cut off as Christine and Kieran waltzed into the locker rooms carrying a picnic basket between them.

"Oh…hullo," Kieran greeted us a tad awkwardly as he and Christine realized they were interrupting something.

"We thought we'd bring you breakfast since we haven't done that in ages," Christine explained in a falsely bright sort of way. "But I see you beat us to it."

I sighed internally. I would just have to wait and tell James another time. But out loud, I said, "Don't be silly. More breakfast is never a bad thing. I'm rather peckish this morning."

I had never truly seen James and Kieran interact before and I was pleased to see that while they didn't have a lot in common, that they were both easy going enough to get on well. They both enjoyed Transfiguration quite a bit and were currently discussing the latest reading assignment.

My thoughts came to a screeching halt as I realized the direction my mind had taken me. I had been concerned about how James would interact with my friends. I had hoped that they all got on well; I wanted to know how he fit into my life off of the pitch.

Christine nudged me. "You look a bit peaky. Are you all right?"

I nodded absent-mindedly and asked softly, "Do you remember when you first spent time with Kieran's friends?"

"Yes, but what– _oh_," she realized. Then she grinned widely. "_I see_."

"Of course you do."

I had told Christine that I needed some time to ensure that being with James was what I wanted. After my revelation of a few moments, there was really no way of denying that I knew exactly what I wanted.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

The rest of the week, I continued to try and find a spare moment to tell James about Sean's choice for Quidditch captain, but every time I started to say something, I was unintentionally interrupted. By the time Friday afternoon rolled around and Nico interrupted us, I felt ready to strangle someone. Or punch them in the face. I was good at that.

But then, Saturday afternoon, I found James in the common room reading his Transfiguration book in one of the armchairs next to the fireplace. Fred and Al were sitting in two of the other chairs.

I nervously tucked a strand of my hair behind my ears. It was still slightly damp from my shower. I might have thought about trying to drown myself in the showers again. This was going to take every ounce of my Gryffindor courage. Godric Gryffindor help me.

"Hi."

At the sound of my voice, James looked up and his face broke out into a smile.

"Hey," he greeted me. He motioned to the one empty armchair next to him.

"You know, you _can_ sit down, Eva Louise," Fred told me with a wink.

"Actually," I began, fidgeting a bit, "James, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go down to the pitch and set up an obstacle course for flying. And you know, er, practice a bit?"

Fred raised an eyebrow and titled his head to the side a bit as he carefully eyed me. Then his face broke into a knowing smirk and he nudged Al with his foot. A slow smile spread across Al's face even as his eyes remained glued to his book. Oh, Merlin…they _knew_. I was going to positively die of the embarrassment. Fred Weasley was never, ever, ever going to let me live this down.

James seemed a bit confused by the seemingly random request but shrugged nonetheless. "All right – I was having a bit of trouble with that section anyway."

He used a spare scrap of parchment to mark his place, and then set the book aside and followed me out of the common room.

I somehow managed to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary as chatted as we made our way through the halls and down to the pitch. On our way, James spotted Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures professor, and stopped for a brief chat. That's what happens when your parents are friends with members of the Hogwarts faculty.

"Let's just head straight onto the pitch," I suggested as we entered the stadium. James seemed confused by this but didn't argue for once.

"Eva, I – " he began, but I held up a hand to stop him. This was going to be difficult enough. I needed to say what I had come to say and get it over with.

"James…I haven't asked you down here to work on your flying; your flying is fine. Well, everyone could always use more practice of course, no one is perfect."

I was rambling. Ugh. _Rambling. _I continued walking until we were somewhere near the center of the large, green oval of the Quidditch pitch. It was my favorite place in the world and being here gave me confidence.

"I have to tell you something. About Quidditch." I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, took a deep, calming breath, and opened them. "Over Christmas holiday, I saw Sean O'Mara in Diagon Alley."

I told James everything and somewhere inside myself I found the courage to look into his face as I did so. It was terribly painful to watch his eyes morph from amused confusion to pools of hurt and betrayal. I hated myself for causing him this sort of pain. If our situations had somehow been reversed…_oh Merlin_, I didn't even want to consider how angry I would have been.

When I had finished speaking, he was silent. His jaw was clenched, his face like stone.

"Please say something."

"Do you have _any idea_,' he finally said, his voice hard, "how much time I've spent thinking about why I wasn't named captain? I've gone over, and over, and over it in my mind until I could barely think straight. I had come to terms that O'Mara and McGonagall saw something in you that I didn't have. I suspected that his choice was a little biased, but it turns out that one nasty comment that I made up just to hurt you turned out to be _true_. It could have been either of us. There wasn't a good reason for me not being named captain after all…"

His voice broke on the last word and I felt a tell tale pricking at the corners of my own eyes. I had ruined everything between us by telling him. But not telling him would have ruined any hope of a relationship too. I couldn't lie to him, not when I cared about him as much as I did. Which, to my astonishment, was quite a lot.

"I'm _so sorry_, James," I said, reaching up and brushing away a lone tear off of my cheek, "but I had to tell you. I couldn't let you think that I was better when I'm _not_. You deserved captain just as much. And…" I swallowed heavily and gazed at a spot over his shoulder. "And I had to tell you because I fancy you quite a lot and I couldn't lie to you. I should have told you sooner, but I didn't know how, and I felt so guilty. And I know that you probably hate me now. I know I would…you have every right…." I trailed off miserably.

My internal pity party was cut abruptly off as James suddenly cupped my face with his calloused hands. His mouth dropped to mine and suddenly he was kissing me. His lips touching mine, ever so gently caressing mine. My brain went completely blank - seriously, white blank - and I just stood there, letting myself be kissed by James Potter. Then as suddenly as it had started, he pulled away.

"I _don't_ hate you," he whispered with conviction, his voice ragged and his breathing heavy.

My own breathing was heavy as well. My lips were still tingling pleasantly and my heart was racing. It felt as though I was soaring through the sky on my broomstick. There was all of the adrenaline of a Quidditch match mixed in with my worry over his reaction to Sean's decision.

"Clearly," I breathed. Oh, Holy Hippogriffs, what a stupid thing to say. Seriously, that's what my mind came up with?

"Eva, I…" he told me, his voice cracking a bit. He was staring at the ground, at a place next to my left trainer.

It was completely disconcerting to see James Potter, ever ready with a witty or snarky comeback, standing in front of me at a loss for words.

James raised his head and brought his eyes up to meet mine. His brown eyes were blazing with unconcealed emotion. "I've fancied you for so long and you never saw it. I tried to show you and I dropped loads of hints but a bloke can only take so many blows to his pride – "

This time it was my turn. I quickly reached up and kissed James squarely on the mouth. He didn't even hesitate for an instant before he had wrapped his strong arms around me. I nearly swooned in contentment – _oh_ _those arms_. And then he was kissing me back as I had never been kissed before.

Holy Hippogriffs – the students of Hogwarts were correct: _We did have chemistry. _

As our lips moved together, he kept one arm firmly around my waist, and then slid the other hand up my back to rest at the back of my neck. In return, I slid my hands slowly up his chest and wrapped them around his neck, all the while pulling him closer. I had never known that kissing a bloke could be like this. This was _intoxicating_. Slowly, our kisses became less urgent and he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine.

"Go out with me?" he asked, breathless.

"Yes," I smiled. Oh, _Merlin yes_.

Just a week ago I had realized that I fancied James, and now he had asked me to go out with him. And even though I knew that perhaps I should feel that everything was happening too quickly, I didn't feel scared. Not with James.

Some time later, we somehow ended up lying side by side on the grass of the pitch, our hands clasped tightly between us.

"We never finished talking about Sean," I hesitantly pointed out. "I am sorry. You would've been a good captain too."

"I'm livid about O'Mara," he replied, his voice suddenly a bit stiff. His hold on my hand tightened almost imperceptibly. "But I'm not cross with you. That took courage to tell me."

"You were right about him all along," I confessed. "He was such a prat. Why was I ever friends with that…that…"

"Let's talk about something less depressing than that wanker."

"Like what? How you've fancied me for ages?" I teased. As a tilted my head to look at him, I saw that James's ears were a bit pink.

I bit my lip gently before admitting, "I think I started fancying you that day in the locker rooms when you had hurt your shoulder and I saw your tattoo."

James's brown eyes grew wide. "That was before you were dating Grant!"

"Well, I didn't _realize_ then what I was feeling!" I protested. "I just thought that it was me thinking you were fit and I'd thought that for a long time any way."

"Oh, really?" he smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Yes, really. Don't let it go to your head." I lightly kicked him with the toe of my trainer. "In retrospect, it became very obvious over Christmas holiday. After running into Sean, I found myself wishing that you were there to hold me like after the Slytherin match. Then Jonathan broke up with me and all I could feel was relief. And then Lily, Roxanne, and Rose were pestering me about you and I couldn't tell them that I didn't fancy you. I was out for a run and suddenly…it all just clicked."

"Oh, Godric," he breathed. "I wanted to kiss you so badly that day in the locker rooms. If I had done, things might have been completely different."

"If you had kissed me then, I think I would have started hyperventilating and had a panic attack," I told him honestly. "Besides, I was still too busy convincing myself that the idea of you and me was ridiculous."

He laughed and brushed his thumb softly over the top of my hand. "I went through that too when I started fancying you. By the time I was ready to admit it, we were vying for captain and I told myself that we would never work. Then when I wasn't named captain that solidified it for me and I kept trying not to fancy you…but I couldn't… because I didn't _really_ want to stop. After the Slytherin match I knew that this wasn't going away."

"I want to do this right," I told him sincerely. "With Jonathan I was a terrible girlfriend, but I'm not going to be that way again. Relationships are work – I've realized that – and I'm going to work at this one."

He leaned over so that he was holding himself up just a bit above me. "Me too." His breath was warm on my skin as he spoke. His lips brushed against mine, feather light.

I had to ask. "You did send me the flowers and note on Valentine's Day, didn't you?"

James smirked triumphantly. "Yeah. The look on your face was priceless! And then in Arithmancy you seemed so dazed you barely knew what was happening. You almost walked into the doorframe on your way into the classroom. I think Fred has a permanent stitch in his side from holding in his laughter."

"Serves him right," I huffed. But I couldn't stop smiling all the same. "Why didn't you just tell me that you had sent them? Or signed your name or something?"

"I didn't know how you'd react," James said. "But I wasn't _that _subtle about it."

Well, that was probably true enough. I gazed up at the blue sky above us, at the white, billowing clouds floating lazily overhead.

"So, I'm your Golden Snitch, then?" I asked, suddenly feeling a bit shy. Definitely not an emotion I was used to experiencing.

"Yeah," he nodded, a smile in his voice.

"You're such a Seeker."

He smirked in that insanely attractive way of his. "Would you rather be my red Quaffle? Since you're a Chaser and all?"

"Your tattoo…" I said as a thought dawned on me. "That isn't…_you know_…"

Merlin, I hoped not. That would just be…far too much, far too soon. I didn't know if I could handle something like that.

He smirked, but said, "No, it's not about you. I got the tattoo because I love being a Seeker. Being the one to catch the Golden Snitch takes skill, patience, and perseverance. You have to outmaneuver and outthink the other team's Seeker. I love the anticipation while searching for the Snitch and the adrenaline rush that sweeps through me when it's spotted and the chase is on. Catching the Snitch ends the match – everything can be changed in an instant."

"That's why you're a Seeker," I realized. He had said that he would tell me one day, and now he had. That was much different from the reasons that I had always assumed of him before I truly knew him.

He leaned over again and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "That's why I'm a Seeker."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

It was dark by the time we returned to Gryffindor Tower. I had loads of schoolwork to finish and I was going to be up long past midnight, but I couldn't find it in me to regret the time I had spent with James down at the pitch. We had needed the time to talk together.

"You know everyone is going to be waiting for us inside the common room, yeah?" James observed as we stood outside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

I tried not to grimace _too_ obviously. Apparently I failed miserably because James began laughing. He was clearly very amused.

Taking my hand in his larger one, he told me, "C'mon, they've waited so long for this."

Well, that was true enough, for whatever mad reason.

"Your family is the nosiest, most meddlesome lot of people I have ever met," I truthfully informed him.

This made him laugh again. "You haven't even met everyone, yet. Just wait until you meet all of my aunts and uncles. But your brothers give Roxanne and Fred a run for their money."

I rolled my eyes. "True enough."

James glanced at the Fat Lady, who was pretending not to listen in on our conversation. However, I could tell that she was greatly interested in what was being said.

"Ready?" James asked me.

"Nifflers," I firmly told the Fat Lady.

"Correct," she told us with a glinting smile as she observed our interlocked hands.

The portrait swung forward on its hinges and James and I clambered through.

"They're holding hands!" Fred's voice rang out gleefully, practically echoing around the common room. Immediately, a cheer rose up from the small crowd of people gathered around the fireplace. Just as James had predicted, they had been waiting for us.

Suddenly, we were being swarmed by Christine, Richard, Gareth, Roxanne Lily, Fred, and Al. It was rather intense and overwhelming, truth be told.

"Thanks for putting up with my confusion and denial," I told Christine.

"What are best friends for?" she smiled back. "But I am glad that you've figured it out."

"You're actually together? For real this time?" Lily exclaimed, eyes shining as she looked back and forth between James and me.

"Yes," he told her emphatically. He was grinning that same stunning smile I had admired at the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match.

"I knew he'd win you over in the end, Eva Louise" Fred clapped us both on the back heartily.

"Oh, good," Gareth said with a sigh of obvious relief. "We won't have to stage that intervention after all. I could never remember all of my lines."

Wait…_what_? Intervention? They thought that I needed to be _intervened upon_? And they had assigned lines?

"We weren't sure that you would ever figure out how James felt about you. Or that you would figure out how you felt about him," Al explained helpfully. "We've been having family meetings about it."

Wait_…what?_

"Do you mean to tell me that you two," I pointed at Richard and Gareth, "have been in cahoots with them?" I pointed to Al and Lily.

"Oh, not just us," Lily put in cheerfully. "Also Roxanne, Rose, Fred, and Hugo. We also talked with Christine and James on a few occasions."

"You brought _Hugo _into his?"

Richard fixed me with a look that plainly said that I was an idiot. "That's all you can say?"

"I just…" I floundered for words. "Why? Why bring all of these different people together to actively…_why_?"

"We couldn't let you lose one another," Lily told us simply with a small smile.

It was incredibly heavy-handed, to be sure. I had had enough of people meddling in my personal business to last me a lifetime. But at the same time…James's family obviously loved him a great deal to help ensure that I noticed how we felt about each other. They also must have liked me a great deal, because knowing several of them as I did, I knew that they wouldn't have bothered to be so incredibly meddlesome if they hadn't wanted me to be with James.

"I never thought that I'd be saying this to you lot," I said as I looked at all of the people standing around me smiling, "but thanks."

"Same goes for me," James intoned.

I pointed a warning finger at my brothers. "Though from now on, you stay out of my personal life, you nosy parkers."

"Does that go for the rest of us?" Fred asked cheekily.

"No more meddling," James said with a smirk.

At this, Al and Lily starting laughing, and in a moment everyone else joined them. I was laughing myself as I looked up at James, eyebrow raised.

"I'm quite certain that the members of the Potter and Weasley families are genetically incapable of not meddling."

All of this was a tad overwhelming, but it was also exciting and new and nerve-wracking. It was a lot of emotions to handle all at once.

"I was right," Zara told me knowingly as she and Bree materialized out of nowhere. "Friends don't act like you two do together."

No, I thought. They certainly didn't. Merlin, I had been so incredibly blind. But I saw it now and I supposed that in the end that was what was important.

"Just wait until Mum and Dad find out!" Al grinned happily.

"That reminds me," Gareth told Richard. "We have an owl to send."

Well, at least Dad would approve of James. I hoped.

"Glad you figured out who the flowers were from," Richard said with a roll of his eyes as he walked by.

"Where's Rose? I asked Al, noticing the redhead's absence for the first time.

"Out," was Al's somewhat cryptic reply. I took that to mean that she was with Scorpius.

Much later, after many more exclamations of "finally!" and "you two are so perfect together!" I was able to escape to the dormitory and tell Christine everything that had happened since I went looking for James that afternoon.

I had just finished the retelling of the day's events when Sorcha nearly bounded into the dormitory, her greyish blue eyes alight and her dark, curly hair looking wilder than usual.

"Is it really true this time? _Is it_?" she cried happily, looking ecstatic.

By the look on Sorcha's face, one would have thought that my dad had personally responded to her fan mail or something. (I had long ago given him very explicit instructions not to.)

"Yes, it's true," I answered, not able to contain the smile spreading across my face.

"Oh, Eva! This is positively wonderful!" she gushed.

Christine appeared to be holding in laughter by the way her face was rapidly turning pink. Something occurred to me as I watched Sorcha clasping her hands excitedly.

"Why did you want James and me to be together so much?" I asked Sorcha. "Gemma fancies him and she's your friend, but you still wanted him to be with me. _Why_?"

"Because James fancies you for everything you are," she answered simply. "Gemma just thinks he's fit and likes that he's talented at something that will make him famous one day. More than famous for being Harry Potter's son, I mean. And even if you didn't always like James, you did respect him as a fellow Quidditch player. I knew that you didn't fancy Jonathan, let alone love him. I just said that after holiday to help you realize it too. You and James are well suited and I thought that he deserved a chance."

I stared at Sorcha. I mean, really, truly looked at her for what was perhaps the first time since I had met her six years ago. She was mental, that was still a certainty. Just yesterday she'd been clipping new photographs of my dad out of an old _Quidditch Weekly_ to add to her shrine while at the same time telling Gemma all about her boyfriend, Oliver. But side by side with the crazy, it turned out that there was someone capable of what the rest of society deemed as coherent, normal thoughts.

That was a serious worldview shift on my part.

"Well, she's given him a chance now," Christine said cheerfully.

Yes, I smiled happily to myself, I had. _I was dating James Potter._

Who saw that coming?

Oh, all right. Everyone but me, apparently.

Holy Hippogriffs.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story follows! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! They're finally together! Hooray! Did they get together sooner than you thought? No worries- they're James and Eva, so there's still some drama – relationship and Quidditch-related - to come! I've officially decided that there will be thirty chapters.

**Next chapter:** Eva overhears some gossip (whatever could it be about?), Jonathan makes a return, James and Eva are adorable, and Eva receives a letter containing some interesting news (theories?) :)


	24. Amazing

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter 24: Amazing**_

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_Dear Mum,_

_Thanks for the advice. On a completely unrelated note, I'm going out with James Potter. I have strong reason to believe that Gareth and Richard have already written and told you, but I thought that perhaps you would want to hear about it from me. When I was younger, I was all wrong about James. But he was wrong about me in a lot of ways too, so I suppose that we're even. We haven't been together very long, and I didn't realize that I fancied him for a very long time, but it just kind of feels, I dunno…right. That sounds weird to say. I'm sharing far too much. _

_Tell Dad that I'm not letting having a boyfriend interfere with Quidditch. As much as it sometimes pains me to admit, James is just as dedicated as I am and wouldn't let me interfere with Quidditch either. Especially since I'll only ever play in one more match at Hogwarts, I need to be focusing my energy on making sure that Gryffindor wins and that the scouts are impressed. I'm sure he won't, but don't let Dad put in a good word for me with the Puddlemere scouts – I want to be selected on my own merit rather than Dad's legacy and influence._

_I'll keep you informed about Quidditch. And maybe James. Also, I feel I should tell you that Richard fancies Lily Potter. Why don't you bother him about that or impart some wisdom or something._

_Love,_

_Eva_

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"She's the luckiest witch ever," one girl lamented.

"I know," another girl commiserated. "He's so hot. I reckon he's _amazing_ at snogging."

"He just seems like he'd be quite passionate, you know?"

"I'm so jealous."

"She_ is_ quite pretty, I suppose."

Well, this was incredibly awkward. I was standing behind the door of a stall in a loo on the seventh floor waiting to exit until the gaggle of girls standing at the sink discussing James's snogging abilities finally left.

The fact that James and I were dating didn't really come as a shocking newsflash to the students of Hogwarts considering the majority of the castle had already thought that we were dating. However, the subject of James and I was certainly still a popular topic of conversation as evidenced by the conversation I was currently overhearing. James's immediate family being who they were, news about any of the Potter or Weasley kids was always widely circulated and discussed.

"I have such a crush on him," one girl lamented. I felt my eyes widen and then narrow. _Sorry?_ She was interested in _my_ boyfriend?

"Sometimes, in lessons, I daydream about him walking up to me in the corridors and just pushing me against a wall and snogging me senseless."

The girls collectively burst into a loud fit of giggles.

All right, there was no way that I was going to stand here and continue to listen to this drivel. I was a Gryffindor for goodness sake, and I was going to leave this cubicle and not care a whit about what was being said about James or me.

Pushing open the cubicle door, I strode out and moved forward to wash my hands at one of the sinks. As the girls (fifth year Gryffindors, as it turned out) realized who I was, they stopped talking at once and their faces quickly drained of color. Pretending that nothing was in any way unusual, I dried my hands in complete silence. They watched me curiously out of the corners of their widened and cautious eyes.

Just before I walked out the door, I was struck by an idea. I turned around and said cheekily, "Just for the record…he _is_ amazing."

As the door swung closed behind me, I could hear the girls break out into loud giggles and excited chatter. I didn't know what had come over me, saying that to them. Call it my bold Gryffindor spirit coming through.

"What are you looking so smug about?" James asked as I slid into the seat next to him in Arithmancy.

This comment only served to make my smirk grow. "Just heard something interesting in the loo, that's all."

"What is it with girls and the loo?" Fred wondered out loud.

Christopher shrugged. "Savitri tells me it's a place to chat and gossip while fixing hair. Sounds wonky to me. I mean… it's a toilet."

Fred and James both wrinkled their noses simultaneously.

"Who wants to chat and gossip while they're trying to pee?" Fred asked.

"Blokes don't hold conversations in the loo," James agreed.

"Well, _I _don't either," I said, feeling the need to defend myself as a non-loo gossiping girl. "I just overhear what's being said in there."

"Oh, yeah?" James tilted his head to the side. "So, what did you overhear?"

I felt my face grow a bit warm as the memory of a few minutes flashed through my mind. "Nothing that you need to know about."

But of course, considering that the girls in the loo were Gryffindors and considering the very nature of gossip, he did hear about it.

The next morning at breakfast, he slipped into the open seat next to me, leaned over, and whispered in my ear, "Just for the record…I think you're amazing too."

Down the table, I saw Gemma watching us with a sour expression on her face. She hadn't spoken to me for several days now. I wasn't terribly broken up about it.

Then James pecked me on the cheek, straightened up, and pulled his plate towards him as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. I think that the red color of my face gave the Weasley family hair a run for its money.

~…~…~…~…~…~…

"I heard you and James Potter are officially together," Jonathan commented as we worked on our Herbology project of the day. Our class was in Greenhouse Three, where students had to have their wits about them. Having a serious conversation while also ensuring that flesh-eating pus didn't get onto my hands wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

"Er…yes," I answered. "We are." It was distinctly awkward to be talking my ex-boyfriend about my new boyfriend. Did this sort of thing actually happen in real life?

"You don't have to feel awkward about it," he assured me as he worked, his gardening gloves were exceptionally dirty, probably because he was doing most of the work. "I knew it was coming."

Oh, bugger. I knew Jonathan hadn't meant to make me feel guilty; he was too nice for that. But I felt guilty all the same.

"Look," I told him. "I'm really sorry for how things ended between us. You're a great bloke, you really are. You didn't deserve me leading you on, even if I didn't mean to."

It was entirely true. I shouldn't have been so oblivious. Jonathan should never have had to be the one to break up with me. I should have ended things between us long before then. I had unnecessarily hurt him, and that bothered me.

He shrugged at this. "Eva…it's all right. We're better off having gone our separate ways. After you came to dinner at my house over the holiday, I started thinking and I realized that once we left Hogwarts, we weren't going to have anything in common. Now I don't have to feel badly anymore that I don't know what a wronky fit is."

"Sorry?" I asked. "_A what_?"

His face colored faintly as he carefully plucked a few leaves from our plant. I had forgotten how easily he blushed. "It's some Quidditch thing that involves one of the players doing something on their broom."

Oh, well, that narrowed it down. Sweet, _Merlin_.

He thought for a moment, then said, "You know…I couldn't care less what it is. And it's okay that you know that."

Yeah, it was okay that he didn't know. He didn't remotely care about Quidditch at all and that was fine for him. Just not for me. A wronky fit…_honestly_…

Jonathan seemed quite taken aback as I began laughing hysterically. "What's so funny?"

"The idea… of James doing a –a _wronky fit_," I told him through peals of laughter. "It's a Wronski Feint – and he's particularly good at them."

"Miss Wood, if you don't pay attention to your plant you're going to end up in the Hospital Wing having Madam Pomfrey regrow the skin on your arm," Professor Longbottom admonished me as he walked among the students and checking on our progress.

I quickly stopped laughing and focused my attention on the sickly green colored plant resting in its pot in front of me. Bloody plant.

"Excellent work, Mr. Grant," he added to Jonathan just before he moved on to Christopher and Savitri's plant.

I had never considered it before, but didn't Christopher find it awkward that he was paired with his girlfriend in the class taught by his father? Glancing over at the pair next to me, I saw that Savitri looked a bit nervous, although Christopher seemed completely at ease.

"I'm glad that you know what you're doing," I told Jonathan sincerely. "I don't fancy a trip to the Hospital Wing."

"I would have thought you were used to the Hospital wing, what with all of the injuries you've had."

I shrugged. "Doesn't mean I like the place. Madam Pomfrey is always waffling on about the dangers of Quidditch as though I don't already know about them."

"She's just concerned."

And that right there was why Jonathan and I would never have worked out despite our differing views on Quidditch. He was just _too_ nice for me. He was always so concerned with what was proper or safe. It was bloody annoying.

I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling. "She can mend bones in a heartbeat. I know from personal experience."

He seemed confused by this. "Don't you ever become tired of injuring yourself?"

"Well, it's not as though I do it on purpose. Exactly."

All right, I suppose that_ sometimes_ I invited it – like when I practiced ducking and rolling by jumping out of the tree, or when I practiced learning how not to fall off of my broom. But those were controlled circumstances and the entire goal was to learn how _not_ to injure myself.

Jonathan shook his head wearily. "I worry about you."

I wasn't certain if he meant my physical or mental well-being. It could very well have been either.

"You really shouldn't," I said firmly. I could take care of myself, thank you very much.

"I know; that's James's job now."

Indignation sharply flared up within me. "Sorry? Do you know what year it is? It's _no one's_ job to worry about me. Except my parents because that's just what parents do," I added as an afterthought.

"I didn't…" Jonathan began, but then stopped. "I just meant that he's naturally going to worry about you playing Quidditch because you're his girlfriend and cares about you."

"No, he won't," I scoffed, but Jonathan didn't appear to be taking the mickey. "James knows I can take care of myself during a match. He's seen me do it for years."

"He'll worry," Jonathan told me lightly. "And you'll worry about him too."

"Psh," I waved my hand dismissively.

Why would I worry about James playing Quidditch? I mean, of course, professional matches were faster paced and could be more violent and there was always Bludgers to contend with. But other than that, there was really nothing to be worried about.

"Someday in the future you'll be admitting how wrong you were," he joked.

I smiled back at him. "That's never going to happen."

Jonathan had been right. We didn't make a good couple – in fact, we had made a rather awful couple - but we made decent friends. As long as we had schoolwork to chat about.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"You're early _again_."

I looked up to see James staring at me with nothing less than complete and utter shock etched across his face. I may or may not have purposefully woken up extra early solely for the purpose of beating him to the pitch before practice.

"I like seeing the look on your face when you see I'm already here," I told him with a smirk.

"Cheeky – turning my own words on me." He looked at me as I sat on the floor performing a hamstring stretch. "I've always wondered - doesn't that hurt to touch your forehead to your knee like that?"

"No," I shook my head, as I sat up and began stretching the other leg. "I didn't start out being able to do it, I had to work at it. Keeping limber helps me on the pitch."

He did some stretching of his own and I finished up my regime as we chatted about Quidditch.

"I've been thinking," I told James, "we need to combine all of our resources. We need an ace strategy to defeat Ravenclaw by enough to win the Cup."

"Between our playbooks we should be able to come up with something," he said thoughtfully. "Mine is practically perfection and then there's yours."

I threw one of my arm guards at him. He grabbed it as it sailed through the air in a straight line towards him.

"Maybe I'll just hold on to this if you're going to be violent."

I grinned. "I _have_ punched someone in the face, you know."

He tossed the armguard back to me.

I laughed as I caught it easily and placed the armguard back in my locker. "You know I'd never punch you in the face."

"I know. You wouldn't want to injure me in any way that might impair my _amazing, passionate snogging skills_," James smirked, brown eyes gleaming.

Against my will, I felt my cheeks flush with warmth.

He quirked his head to the side. "Are you still embarrassed about that?"

Er…why _wouldn't _I be? For the next few days afterwards, it seemed that the girls of Hogwarts had talked of little else. I couldn't go anywhere without hearing about what I had said in my momentary lapse of judgment.

"I regret ever saying that."

Even though it was true. Very, _very_ true. But everyone else didn't need to know that. That was between the two of us. No one else (_especially_ other girls) needed to know about us snogging.

"I'm glad you did," James told me, suddenly serious.

It was my turn to be confused. He was glad that I had told a bunch of gossipy fifth girls _in the loo_ that he was good at snogging? Perhaps it was just another strange bloke thing I didn't understand. It wouldn't be the first time. Or the last if the past was any indication.

"It's nice to be reminded that my feelings aren't one sides anymore." His earns turned a bright pink at the admission.

I quickly crossed the expanse of floor between us and threw my arms around him. I didn't know what it was about James Potter, but I felt so incredibly _free _around him. What I had written my mum had been true – it felt natural being in a relationship with James. How had I denied it for so long?

He captured my lips with his own and a delicious warmth spread through me. I really hadn't been lying when I said that he was amazing. I hummed in contentment as he pulled away and pressed a hot kiss to my neck, just below my right ear. Running my hand over his shoulder, I remembered that underneath the fabric of his t-shirt was a tattoo of a Golden Snitch. The thought made me a bit lightheaded.

"Hullo," Zara said as she walked in to the locker rooms. Apparently the sight of James and me wrapped around each other didn't even faze her. I wasn't sure how I should feel about that.

"Er, hi," I greeted her, removing my arms from around James. He reluctantly let his arms drop from my waist and shot Zara a look that clearly said he was greatly annoyed by the interruption.

I was too, for that matter. Zara had absolutely terrible timing.

"You two are adorable. Just thought I'd let you know," Zara told us as she walked by on her way to her locker.

"Where's Bree?" I asked her, looking around for Zara's best mate that was usually not far away.

Zara shrugged. "With Nico, I expect."

It hadn't occurred to me before, but if Nico and Bree actually began going out, we would have two couples on our team. And then if Lily or Richard ever worked up the courage to ask the other to Hogsmeade, we'd have three couples. Holy Hippogriffs! That could be problematic. I didn't want anyone (myself included) to be bringing their relationship – good or bad - onto the pitch. Time on the pitch was time in which the Gryffindor team was supposed to be focused on training, learning new plays, and improving our skills.

I decided then and there that the issue needed to be taken care of immediately. There was a time and place for relationships, but Gryffindor team practice wasn't one of them and everyone needed to be aware of that.

"All right, all right," I told everyone as they arrived and settled down on the benches in front of me. "First order of business - I just want to remind everyone that now that…well, we have people on the team dating each other, and I want to make certain that we all remember that on the pitch, Quidditch comes first. I don't want relationship arguments or snogging or something to get in the way of us winning the Cup. Er, understood?"

Yikes, that was one awkward speech to give. I never wanted to have to make an announcement like that to my team again. I hoped that I wasn't blushing. I raised a hand to feel my face on the pretense of pushing back an errant strand of hair. My face was cool to the touch – what a relief!

"That goes for you too?" Nico asked me slyly.

"Yes. It does," I answered shortly. I looked at James as I said it, and he nodded firmly, agreeing with me. Of course he understood - we both wanted to beat Ravenclaw and win the Cup more than anything.

"Second order of business - next practice is a strategy meeting. Come prepared with any insight into the Ravenclaw team that you've noticed from their previous games this year. Finally, go stretch because we're going to run around the Great Lake."

There were a few moans of protest from everyone but James, who looked pleased by the news. Running meant trying to lap me. It didn't happen often, but when it did he took particular glee in my downfall. I wasn't delusional enough to think that just because we were going out meant that everything between us would change. I didn't want it to anyway. We challenged each other to be better Quidditch players.

As we all shuffled out of the locker rooms, James pulled me aside and kissed me. I stood there, my mind suddenly floating somewhere a million miles away, enjoying the feel of his warm mouth against mine. Then his lips curved into a smile as he pulled away abruptly and took off running in the direction of the lake.

I stared after him for a moment before my mind was able to process what had just happened. Oh, Holy Hippogriffs!

"You dirty cheat!" I yelled after him as I broke into a run. "You… you rule breaker!"

I mean, honestly! I had just given the team an incredibly awkward speech about relationships between team members and not letting those relationships affect the teams' performance, and this was how he reacted. Leave it James Potter to mess with my mind. I knew that he had understood what I had been trying to say, but he just couldn't help himself when it came to finding ways to get under my skin.

He looked over his shoulder at me as he ran. Even from a distance I could tell that he was smirking. It was probably his _I want to row with you_ smirk too. The knowledge made my stomach turn over though whether it was from annoyance or butterflies it was difficult to say.

He and I both kept up a steady pace as we ran. It didn't take us long to overtake everyone else on the team. They jogged at practice, but James and I had loads more endurance because we not only ran at practice, but ran most mornings in our free time. Somewhere after the halfway mark I caught up with him and we ran neck and neck, the beech tree that marked our stopping point looming up ahead in the distance.

He shot me a look that I interpreted to mean _Just because you're my girlfriend doesn't mean I'm going to let you win._

I returned his challenging look with one of my own. There was no way that I was going to let _him_ win. We had always competed like this and I didn't intend to stop now. This was who we were.

My lungs screamed for air as I pumped my arms and stretched my legs as we both ran full out. We were drawing closer and closer to the beech tree. Somewhere behind us, I could hear our teammates cheering us on.

"Go Eva!" Richard called out.

"C'mon, James! Don't go down like the Canons!" That was from Nico.

"Beat him, Eva!" Zara yelled. "Girl power!"

The hard earth pushed back against the bottoms of my trainers as my feet pounded against the ground. I willed myself to run just a tiny bit faster. I pulled ahead for a moment, but then James put on a burst of speed as well and then we were even again.

James and I passed the beech tree in a dead sprint. We both slowed our intense run to a walk, gasping for air. I held my arms up and clasped my hands behind my head, taking deep breaths in and out, making certain that I was taking in as much air as I let out.

"I…win," I told him.

"Did…not," he panted, looking at me, brown eyes bright.

"You…cheated…" I replied. "That was…a dirty trick."

His mouth curved into a smirk. "I play to win."

I felt as though I finally had my breath back. Sweet Merlin that had been some run.

"That's not very Gryffindor of you." I crossed my arms in front of me. "Aren't we supposed to be chivalrous and noble and such?"

He leaned close and pecked me on the cheek. "Doesn't mean I can't be cheeky and mischievous."

"What was that about not mixing Quidditch and relationships?" Nico yelled from across the lake.

I looked behind us to see that everyone else had stopped jogging to watch our race. Prats. What did they think this was, a show?

Er…well, it rather had been, hadn't it?

"Full sprint to the end!" I bellowed to my team in my best Quidditch captain voice. "_Now_!"

"You're a slave driver," Zara wheezed as everyone stood around attempting to catch their breath after their forced sprint to the tree. "This had better win us the Cup."

I grinned widely. "That's the plan."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

That weekend, Christine, Kieran, and I were in the library studying for our upcoming Charms exam when suddenly James approached our table. We were hidden away, nearly at the back, so it was quite the miracle that he had found us at all.

I thought that he had come to join us, but instead he said, "Eva, I need to talk to you."

He seemed very solemn and insistent, so I excused myself and let James lead me out of the library. Christine and Kieran could obviously tell that something was amiss because they didn't even nudge me or send me a wink as I left with James.

"It's about Tristan," James told me, taking an envelope from the rucksack that was slung over his shoulder in a carefree manner.

My heart clenched painfully at the mention of Tristan. I thought about him on a daily basis – how could I not? He was my older brother and of course I loved him even though he had acted like a massive git. Even after everything that had happened between us over Christmas holiday, he was still family.

"Why?" I asked. Should I have been worried? "Has something happened?"

"He's not hurt," was all James would say. He held the letter out to me. "Since she's the Quidditch editor, Mum was at the Tornados' match today. She didn't want you to find out from the _Prophet _tomorrow morning. Richard and Gareth will want to know too."

I snatched the letter from his hand and quickly unfolded it.

_Dear James,_

_I want you to pass along some news to Eva. I was reporting on the Tornado's match this afternoon – it was a rather publicized affair because it was Tristan Wood's first match as the main team Keeper for Tutshill. _

_I know that you said that Eva was upset with Tristan, but I know that she would rather hear about the outcome of the match from you or me than to read about it the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning. The match didn't go well at all. Tristan played extremely poorly. He seemed incredibly nervous and out of synch with his team members. Anyone can see that he's not ready to play in a professional match yet. He's too inexperienced and hasn't been given enough time to train with his team. _

_I'll let you know of anything else I hear that Eva should be aware of._

_Love,_

_Mum_

_P.S. Al tells me that you and Eva are finally going out. About time!_

I internally smiled at the postscript, but my mind was truly on Tristan. I thought of what he had said to me that December day at his flat, "_Before I wasn't able to play, but now I can. I did this because I want to play."_

He had wanted the chance to play, to show everyone in the magical world just how talented and wonderful he was. He had wanted the chance and now he had had it. And he had failed.

I felt torn between being feeling sorry for Tristan and feeling vindicated. He hadn't been ready to play on a main team just yet. Dad had known that. I had told him that his choice was a mistake and that he was being rash wanting things for which he hadn't worked. I had been right, but I was almost sorry that I was. I could only imagine how Tristan must feel, having played so poorly in his first professional match. But at the same time, he needed to be knocked down off of his high horse and stop thinking that the world should reward him for his own poor decisions.

"Are you going to write to him?" James asked me, his voice a bit strange sounding.

I folded the letter and handed it back to him. He stowed in his rucksack.

"Would you, if it was Lily?"

"No," James answered truthfully. "I wouldn't be able to. Not right away at least."

"Neither can I."

He reached out and put his arms around me, holding me close as I put my own arms around him. I rested my head against his shoulder, feeling his steady heartbeat. His body was warm next to my own, which suddenly seemed quite cold. It was comfortable, and I felt protected there in James's arms.

"Thanks," I told him, my voice a bit muffled against his robes.

"You would have done the same."

I pulled away from him, but took his hand firmly in my own. "I should get back to Christine and Kieran. They'll be worried about me. You could join us, you know. We're studying for the Charms exam."

James shrugged, and said, "All right. I could use some practice before the exam."

Right before we re-entered the library, he tugged gently on my hand, forcing me closer to him. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my lips that made me feel warm down to my toes.

"Thanks," I told him again.

He raised an eyebrow quizzically. "For the kiss?" His mouth twitched as he smirked. "It was rather _amazing_, wasn't it?"

I laughed and poked him in the shoulder. He was never going to let me live down my comment to those fifth year girls. "No, you plank. Thanks for…just being _you_."

James regarded me steadily with his brown eyes. "Anytime."

I smiled to myself as we walked into the library hand in hand. My older brother may have been a source of worry and frustration, but I didn't have to deal with this alone. I had Richard, Gareth, Mum, Dad, and Christine. And I had James, who _was _amazing for a variety of reasons, the least important of which was snogging.

Perhaps I should keep him around.

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**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills.**

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!

**A/N:** I started a formspring page so that people without an account here can ask questions about Game On (characters, plot, whatever) and future stories and such. It's just meant to be fun, and I'll still definitely communicate by private message. See my profile for my username.

**Next chapter:** James has a birthday, Slytherin plays Hufflepuff, an important secret is revealed, and James and Eva have an argument.


	25. Birthdays and Arguments

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter 25: Birthdays and Arguments **_

_For __Rayven49, who let me know "Game On" was being plagiarized. Thank you and enjoy!_

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I would have been willing to bet my entire allowance of pocket money that Slytherin was going to positively flatten Hufflepuff at the upcoming match between the two Houses. Hufflepuff would undoubtedly put up a good fight, but if the way she had ben strutting about the castle for the last few days were any indication, Lyra Rinaldi was out for blood.

"Hope you like second place," she taunted me as she and her usual group of friends/acquaintances/minions walked by James and me as we were on our way to Transfiguration. "_Again_."

"Hope _you_ do, since it's going to be yours," James called over his shoulder.

The girls twittered angrily at him, but he paid them no more attention.

"We'll win," he told me firmly. "We have to."

"We didn't last year," I soberly reminded him, thinking back to our narrow loss of the Cup the year before.

He shrugged. "That was last year. This is this year. We have the best team of the four Houses and everyone knows it. We were just unlucky in the first match. Sodding Malfoy."

My stomach clenched uncomfortably as I thought of what I knew about Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Weasley.

"Yeah. Say, did you ever find out who sent Rose those flowers for Valentine's Day?" I asked him. I tried to sound as though I was simply changing the subject even though in actuality I wasn't changing the subject at all.

He frowned slightly. "No, whoever it was used a school owl so that the sender couldn't be traced. Bloody sneaky if you ask me."

I poked him in the side and in the process almost dropped the book I was carrying. "Might I remind you that you did the same thing to me? Not that I tried to trace the owl, mind you."

James snorted in amusement. "I used Louis's owl. I knew you wouldn't recognize it."

"Bloody sneaky if you ask me," I teased him, using his own words against him.

"That's different," he insisted as he adjusted the strap of his rucksack. "I know you. It wasn't meant to be sneaky in a bad way."

"Perhaps the bloke who sent Rose the flowers didn't mean it in a bad way either. Maybe he's just worried about her massive family. You lot can be a bit intimidating."

"If we like the bloke then he'll have nothing to worry about," James rationalized.

I grinned. "I seem to remember you saying that there would be no more meddling."

He smirked back at me. "And I seem to remember you saying that it was genetically impossible for members of the Potter and Weasley families not to meddle."

I shook my head, but I was smiling slightly. "You lot are incorrigible."

"On behalf of the entire clan, I'll take that as a compliment," James said as he held the door to the Transfiguration classroom open for me and the two students behind us.

"See you after class," he told me, before pushing a strand of hair out of my eyes.

Christine was waiting for me by our usual seat, but I watched James for a moment as he went to find his seat at the back of the classroom next his mates.

"You two are so perfect together."

That voice was somehow familiar. Turning to glance behind me, I saw Jonathan's friend, Judith, standing there, her hand grasping the strap of her rucksack. She looked as cheerful as always.

"Oh," I said, feeling a bit awkward to be talking to the girl who was good friends with the bloke whose heart I had (accidentally) stomped under my feet. "Er, thanks."

"You may have hurt my friend, but I don't hate you," she continued pleasantly. "You weren't right for each other. These things happen. It's okay. But now you've found someone who is, and so will he."

Well, this was…odd.

"Yeah…er, thanks, Judith. I'm sure he will. He deserves it."

She gave me a long look then nodded and said very cheerfully, "Well, see you around!"

"What did Judith want?" Christine asked me as I dropped into my seat next to her at our usual table.

"To tell me that James and I were perfect for each other, that Jonathan and I hadn't been right together, and that Jonathan would find someone else. And also that she wasn't cross me with me because I hurt her friend. It was bleeding strange."

Christine titled her head to the side and gave me a shrewd glance. "Eva…_she fancies Jonathan_."

"Really?" I not-so-subtly glanced across the classroom to where Judith was sitting next to Jonathan. The two were chatting animatedly and she was laughing at something that he had just said. She looked very happy. So did he.

"Don't you remember the train ride back to Hogwarts after holiday?" Christine asked. "She was practically fawning over him. It was terribly obvious. To everyone except you and him that is."

The idea of Jonathan not being observant for once made me feel loads better about my own observational skills. It was a nice reminder that even observant people missed things sometimes too.

"Huh," I commented. "That would certainly account for her behavior."

The professor walked in just then, but something that Judith had said weighed on my mind. Actually, Judith had just been the latest person in a long string of people to say it: James and I were perfect for each other.

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind as the lesson began – I couldn't afford to miss information that might be important for N.E. . I didn't need excellent marks to play professional Quidditch, but I did need to pass my lessons. But later, after classes had finished for the afternoon, I steered Christine outside on the pretense of getting some fresh air down by the lake.

"What's on your mind?" Christine asked as we settled down under the beech tree.

"How did you know?" I asked, even though it was a silly question. We were best mates – of course she knew.

Christine rolled her eyes but smiled. "You get plenty of fresh air - you went for a run this morning. And yesterday. And the morning before that."

"It's just…" I began, searching for the words to say what I wanted. "Everyone seems to think that James and I are so perfect together. And I like being with him – things are natural and easy between us – but everyone else just seems to have all of these…_expectations_. Like I'm going to marry the bloke or something. We haven't been together that long and it just seems rather soon to be saying we're perfect and to be expecting us to stay together forever."

I knew I was nattering on, but I couldn't stop myself. I just kept talking. "And maybe we do stay together. Brilliant. But isn't it a bit soon to be thinking about that? But at the same time, I don't want to assume that we'll break up because that doesn't seem like a good mindset to start off a relationship. Does that make sense?"

When I finally looked up from the patch of grass at which I had been staring very intently, I saw that Christine was watching me, clearly trying to hold back a smile.

"Absolutely. People have been telling me for ages now that I'll marry Kieran and I mean…I do love him, but we're only eighteen. My advice is not to over think it too much. Just concentrate on your relationship as it is right now and don't worry about what may or may not happen at some indeterminate point in the future. Don't worry about crossing bridges before you even see them."

"I know in the past I've told you that you and Kieran are perfect for each other," I said, suddenly feeling a bit badly if I had ever inadvertently made my best friend feel uneasy about being labeled "perfect" for someone. "Sorry if that ever caused you any panic or anything."

"Just a bit," Christine admitted hesitantly. "But it's all right, really," she hastily tried to reassure me.

Well, now I just felt guilty. Some friend I was.

"You should have said something!"

She merely shrugged in a nonchalant manner.

I leaned over and hugged here. "You're a good friend. The best."

"Cheers," she smiled as she hugged me back. "You are too."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

After the letter that James had shown me from his mum concerning Tristan's abysmal first match with the Tornados, I had debated whether or not to send my parents a letter. In the end, I couldn't figure out what to say except that Tristan was a tosser. Needless to say, that was one letter I did not send.

However, a few mornings later at breakfast, I received an owl from my mum.

_Dear Eva,_

_By now I'm certain that you've seen the Daily Prophet and Quidditch Weekly articles covering Tristan's match last Saturday. I've been trying since then to think of something to say to you, Gareth, and Richard, but I didn't know what. All I can think to say is that you and your brothers shouldn't take it too hard. Tristan is an adult now, and all of his problems of his own creation. Your father and I are sorry that he's had to learn this way, but if nothing else, just try to learn from his mistakes. _

_Your father isn't taking this new development well. He's been driving Puddlemere harder than usual, so I'm told. He's also been spending a good deal of time out at the pitch at home. I saw him out there the other day flying around, performing all sorts of risky looking maneuvers. You know how he says it clears his head. Tristan still hasn't answered any of my letters. _

_And Eva – don't worry about scouts and being signed to a team. You aren't Tristan. Juts let the scouts and owners see your talent and dedication, and then it's up to them. You deserve a place on a team, so show them. But please dear, don't lose sleep over it. Just take a long run and go for a fly when you're feeling stressed. _

_Best of luck with studying for N.E. , and with team practice. _

_Love,_

_Mum_

Mum had put words to fears that had been stirring in the back of my mind ever since James had shown me the letter from Mrs. Potter. Tristan had broken his contract, turned his back on his team, and now had played incredibly poorly in his first professional match – what if his actions affected how scouts viewed _me_? What if they thought I wasn't worth taking a chance on, all because Tristan had proved unreliable? What if they thought I would prove just as flighty and full of myself?

I read over mum's letter again. One sentence stood out to me as though it were written in red ink: _You aren't Tristan. _

No, I wasn't Tristan. But the way Tristan had been acting this last year hadn't been the Tristan I knew and grew up with. He had always had more than his share of arrogance and had been high-handed, but I had never imagined that he would find himself in his current situation.

I didn't want that to be me. I _wouldn't _let that be me. I would never do what Tristan had done, and I would just have to prove to the scouts, team owners, coaches, and trainers that I wasn't anything like my brother.

Thinking of how Tristan's utter stupidity could potentially impact my own chances of being asked to try out for various Quidditch teams made me want to throw something heavy against a wall. I would have to settle for taking a fly around the pitch after lessons.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Once again, I had deliberately woken up early to arrive at the Quidditch pitch before James. But this time, I had a very specific reason.

"Happy Birthday!" I greeted him as he walked in the door of the locker room. I moved closer, placed a hand on his jaw, and pressed an enthusiastic kiss to his mouth.

"Is this my present?" he asked me with a wide grin as he pulled away for a moment. "An _amazing_ birthday snog?"

"No," I said, but then added thoughtfully, "Unless you don't want the gift I bought you."

"Can't I have both?" he asked as he stole a brief kiss.

"Oh, all right, then," I sighed heavily in mock resignation. He quickly leaned forward and captured my lips with his own. Ah, the bloke could kiss. Really, sometimes he just took my breath away. Perhaps it was the new relationship. Or perhaps it was just James. As his mouth moved tenderly against mine, I was willing to bet that it was the latter.

"Enough, you," I pushed him away sometime later. "I still have to give you your other present."

"Don't need anything else," he told me as he trailed soft kisses along the side of my jaw.

"We won't have time to run before practice," I gasped at the electric feel of his lips against my skin.

"It's my birthday," he continued to place gentle kisses over the skin of my neck. "I should be able to skive off for today."

"I promised my dad that I wouldn't let you distract me from Quidditch. Do you want him to find out that you're a terrible distraction?"

James gave a noncommittal grunt as I smoothed my hands across the expanse of his shoulders, but he didn't move away. I had to admit that I wasn't exactly doing my part to put a stop to this. Okay, _focus, Eva._

"Do you want us to lose to Ravenclaw?"

His lips stilled and then he pulled away. "No, damn it."

I smiled, pleased with myself. "Good, now let me get your present."

It had taken me quite some time to determine what to give James for his birthday. I had known him for over six years, but we hadn't been mates until this year. Still, I had found something that I thought he would enjoy.

From out of my locker, I took a package wrapped with red gift paper and a large, gold bow. "Happy Birthday," I told him as I handed it over to him. "April 2nd. You just missed April Fools' Day."

"I've always been disappointed that I couldn't have been born three hours sooner," he grinned at me. "My Uncle George and his twin Fred – my cousin Fred is named after him - was born on April 1st. Especially as a kid it seemed a good day to be born on."

James tore the wrapping off and threw it on the floor in his eagerness to see what was inside. As he opened the box and pushed aside the tissue paper, his face broke out into a wide, toothy smile.

"Where did you get these pictures?" he asked, lifting the picture frame out of the box.

"Christine took them," I explained. "She usually brings her camera to practice and matches. I'm terrible at taking pictures, so she chronicles things for me. She's always thought this one was hysterical. I didn't always like it, but… I do now."

In truth, I used to hate the two pictures I had placed in a divided frame and given to James. Both moving pictures captured the immediate aftermath of the Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw the first year that James and I were on the team. In the first picture, a young James and I were hugging each other, our faces ecstatic as we nearly collided on our brooms. He had been closest to me when he had caught the Golden Snitch, and so had flown over to me and hugged me out of sheer ecstasy. I had been so thrilled that we had won that I had hugged him back.

The second moving picture was taken immediately after the first, the very moment that James and I had come to our senses and realized just who we were hugging and sprung quickly apart. The images of our thirteen-year-old selves wore expressions of shock and slight distrust as we held our arms awkwardly at our sides, our brooms still hovering in midair.

"I love it," James told me, putting the lid back on the box and setting it carefully inside of his locker.

I felt ridiculously pleased that my choice of gift had been a good one.

He kissed me again, this time softly and slowly. We never did fit in a run before practice.

There was a knock on the locker room door and I pulled away from James.

"Are you two decent?" came Nico's voice. I could hear Bree giggling.

I strode to the door and yanked it open. I fixed Nico with the sternest captain glare I could muster. "Of course we are, now get in here and stop being a prat."

"I was just checking!" Nico defended himself, hands raised in a position of surrender.

Zara bounded in a moment later. "You two left me!" she complained to Bree and Nico.

"No relationship problems at the pitch, remember?" I warned her sternly in my captain's voice.

"It's not a relationship thing," Zara replied pointing an accusing finger at her best friend. "It's a they said they'd wait for me and then didn't thing!"

At that moment, Richard and Lily walked in and inadvertently saved us from having to listen to Zara and Nico argue.

"We're going to run laps and do some strength training as normal," I told everyone, "and then we're going to work on strategy as a team."

Much to my delight, the strategy planning session went well. I used the chalkboard to great effect – I had procured some colored chalk during the last Hogsmeade trip, and it greatly improved the quality of my complex diagrams.

As requested, my team had come prepared. Zara and Nico shared helpful information that they had noticed about the Ravenclaw Beaters and Bree and Lily added useful insight about the Ravenclaw Chasers.

"Now," I reminded everyone before I dismissed practice, "remember that some of this strategy could still change, so let's remember to be flexible. But we've seen Ravenclaw play Slytherin and Hufflepuff, so we know what we're up against."

Richard nodded firmly and Nico gave me a confident grin. I was glad of everyone's support, but it didn't make me any less nervous. Once Slytherin had played Hufflepuff, we would know how many points we would need in order to beat Ravenclaw and win the Quidditch Cup.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"This is the last match we'll ever watch at Hogwarts, isn't it?" I observed as I sat in the stands with my Gryffindor team, waiting for the Hufflepuff and Slytherin match to begin. The sky was a dull grey and a light rain was falling. James and I were sitting underneath a large, Gryffindor red umbrella. It was a good job that I had long ago enchanted my playbook to be impervious to water.

"Yeah," James said, gazing around the pitch. "And in a few weeks it'll be our last time playing on this pitch."

"Why are you taking notes, then, if you can't use them next year?" Nico asked me. Bree had offered to share her umbrella with him, but not before his hair had been plastered to his head. It rather had the effect of making him look like a small, wet mouse.

I noted, with some satisfaction, that Richard and Lily were sharing an umbrella as well. Hopefully one of them would be making a move soon.

"The next captain may find them helpful," I replied. I wasn't trying to sound cryptic, but at my words, everyone on the team fell silent. "I haven't made a decision yet," I added as they all watched me expectantly. "We still have one more match for me to base my decision on."

"So you don't know who you want to choose yet?" Zara asked.

I shook my head. "I've given it some thought, but nothing will be final until after we play Ravenclaw."

James turned to look at me fully. "You've thought about it?"

I shrugged. "After what…after holiday," I amended since the rest of the team was listening, "I started thinking about it. I have a mental list."

"Welcome to today's match – Slytherin versus Hufflepuff!" the announcer's voice echoed through the pitch. Students cheered wildly and waved pennants of green and silver and black and gold.

As the Slytherins flew the customary lap around the pitch, I could have sworn that I saw Lyra Rinaldi shoot me an incredibly smug grin.

"Go Hufflepuff!" Nico cheered loudly while Bree cheered for her older sister who played Chaser for Hufflepuff.

"Slytherin is going to wipe the pitch with them," James muttered, sounding very dejected indeed.

Fifteen minutes later, it was clear that every prediction I had made about Slytherin steamrolling Hufflepuff were going to be correct. The score was 80 – 10. Poor Hufflepuff was putting up a valiant fight – they had clearly trained very hard since their match against us – but they were simply no match for the Slytherins.

"Watkins passes to Campbell, who passes back to Watkins, who attempts a Porscoff Play but is intercepted by Rinaldi! Slytherin now in possession."

"Damn Rinaldi," James made a face. "She's such a bleeding cow. Too bad she's a good Chaser."

"C'mon, Natasha," Bree cried, rocking back and forth on the bench as her sister flew towards Lyra Rinaldi and attempted to knock the Quaffle out of her hands.

"Foul!" James and I yelled together, jumping to our feet as Rinaldi elbowed Natasha hard in the face. Even from the stands, I could tell that Natasha's nose was bleeding. Bree was on her feet, yelling loudly. So was the entirety of the Hufflepuff students. I could've sworn that I saw Jonathan's friends Max and Aristotle waving a large banner between them.

"A penalty is awarded to Hufflepuff! It's taken by Martin – hope her nose is all right. She flies towards the goal posts – yes, she's gotten it past the Slytherin Keeper, Banks! Hufflepuff scores, 80-20!"

Slytherin had scored twice more and Hufflepuff once more when Scorpius Malfoy took a Bludger to his right shoulder. He hadn't been quick enough to dodge the Bludger sent his way by the Hufflepuff Beater, Colin Palmer. As the Bludger made contact, the Slytherin section gasped, but cheered heartily as Malfoy slowly pulled himself right ways on to this broom; he had listed dangerously to the side when he had taken the direct hit. He was certainly putting on a good show for the scouts that had come to watch the match, though I didn't know if he was interested in playing professionally or not.

I dared a quick glance at Rose, who was sitting in the stands next to Roxanne. Rose's face had paled a bit but she was keeping her composure well. It was quite a feat considering Fred and Hugo were sitting nearby and cheering excitedly about Malfoy's injury.

"No foul – just brilliant Beating by Palmer of Hufflepuff," informed the announcer.

"Too bad Palmer doesn't have a better team" James noted, "He's leagues better than the rest of them."

Behind us, Bree squawked indignantly, but I agreed with James. Natasha might have been Hufflepuff's best Chaser, but Palmer was by far the best player on the team.

The match drug on and on as Slytherin worked to garner as many points as possible so that they could overtake us in the Quidditch standings. I was almost certain that Scorpius had seen the Snitch on two different occasions but had purposefully not caught it and not let the Hufflepuff player catch on so that the match would continue. It wasn't exactly difficult for him. In my own opinion, Andra Atkins, the Hufflepuff Seeker, unfortunately wasn't much of a Quidditch player.

It was clear that both teams were tired after nearly three hours of playing in the rain – and in Scorpius and Natasha's cases, in pain - but still the match wore on. Then suddenly, with a slight glance at the score, Scorpius pulled his broom up sharply and spiraled up into the sky. I quickly did the maths in my head and nearly groaned aloud. Oh, sweet Merlin.

Andra attempted to follow him, but it was too late. Moments later, Scorpius reappeared in the cloudy sky, the bright Golden Snitch grasped firmly in his left hand as he held it against his right shoulder and steered his broom with his right.

"Malfoy's got the Snitch!" the announcer cried excitedly, "Slytherin wins 450 - 140."

Faces filled with smug triumph, the Slytherins flew towards the center of the pitch, congregating in celebration. As they landed and dismounted their brooms, I watched in horrified amusement as Rinaldi moved towards Scorpius and, pressing herself close to him, kissed him full on the mouth.

"_What_ is she doing?" Rose cried jumping to her feet, unable to restrain herself any longer. I couldn't exactly blame her. If someone as loathsome as Rinaldi (or any girl really) had kissed James, I would have hexed them into next week. And then I would have punched them in the face for good measure.

But Rose needn't have worried. Rinaldi's lips were barely on Scorpius's for a second before he had pushed her away so roughly that she stumbled. He appeared to be yelling at her. The rest of their team watched on, clearly unsure of what to do now that their celebration had been cut short while their star player and their captain engaged in a shouting match.

"Don't tell me you're one of those girls that thinks Malfoy's fit, are you?" Fred asked Rose with a great deal of disappointment. It was clear that he was only having a laugh, so Rose's response came as a complete shock to (nearly) everyone in the immediate vicinity.

"Yes, I do," Rose retorted hotly, blue eyes flashing. "Because…because Scorpius is my boyfriend. So excuse me while I go tell Lyra Rinald to shove off!"

"_What_?" James, Fred, and Hugo yelled, their faces expressing varying degrees of shock and anger. I had never seen more shocked expressions. If the situation weren't so likely to become serious, I would have laughed.

Rose was already gone down the stairs that led to the pitch. A moment later, she appeared on the pitch striding swiftly towards where Rinaldi and Scorpius were still yelling at each other. Rinaldi turned when Rose announced her presence, but quickly dismissed her. Then suddenly, Scorpius took Rose's hand in his. He said something to Rinaldi and gestured to Rose. Rinaldi shook her head dramatically and in response, Scorpius did something I never would have thought him capable of: he took Rose's face in his hands and kissed her right there in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. In response, Rose wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

"_What in the hell is that_?" James spat as he watched the scene playing out below us. All around us in the stands, students were watching Rose and Scorpius. Fred's mouth was hanging open in a most comical way. A group of Ravenclaw girls in the stands next to us found the display either sweet or distressing, depending on how one interpreted the clutching of hearts and sighing.

"Look, they fancy each other quite a lot," I told James in an attempt to calm him. "And there's nothing you can do about it."

"I can't wait to see Uncle Ron's face when he finds out about this!" Fred exclaimed gleefully. "But _Malfoy_…_what is she thinking?_"

"How do you know that?" James asked, his brown eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as he looked at me.

Er…Once again, I had proven that I would have made a completely miserable Auror. _Bugger_.

"Look at them!" I flung an arm in the direction of the pitch where Rose and Scorpius were still kissing. "You don't kiss somebody like that if you don't fancy them."

James scoffed loudly as he watched the scene on the pitch with a look of revulsion.

To hell with it, I couldn't keep silent about this. I had sworn that I wouldn't talk about it with James, but I was going to have to now that I had accidentally opened my big mouth. "James - Rose has been going out with Scorpius for a couple of months now, and they've fancied each other for longer than that."

James pulled his gaze away from the pitch and turned towards me slowly. I didn't like what I saw in his eyes.

"_You knew_?" his voice was low and filled with anger.

"_Yes_," I told him defiantly. "I caught them kissing once and I promised that I wasn't going to tell."

"You couldn't tell _me_?"

"We weren't going out then!" I protested heatedly. "And it was Rose's place to tell her family, _not mine."_

I vaguely noticed that James and I and an audience now. Richard, Gareth, Lily, Al, Roxanne, Louis, Hugo, Zara, Nico, and Bree were all watching us apprehensively as we argued. Each wore an expression that suggested they were torn between wanting to step in and wanting to leave us to deal with this issue ourselves.

"Some way for us to find out!" he shot back. His fingers flexed as though he was just itching to take out his wand and hex Scorpius from all the way up here in the stands. Or perhaps he wanted to hex me. It was difficult to say.

"She told Roxanne and Lily during that girls' night. And since Al already knew, she was waiting to tell the rest of - "

"_Al_ knows?" James echoed my words, his eyes narrowing even further.

Oh, bugger, bugger, _bugger_. I should have stopped talking right then, but unfortunately, I just kept going.

"Take it up with _him_, not _me_!" I yelled at James.

Behind James, I saw Al's eyes widen as Hugo turned to him, his stare slightly murderous. Al swallowed heavily, then said something in a low tone to Hugo.

"Oh, you can be certain I will," James snapped angrily, then asked, "How can _you_ be okay with this? He's the Slytherin Seeker! He's the reason we lost!"

"You played a part in our loss too, you know," I told him without really thinking my words through. James couldn't have looked more shocked if I had pulled out my wand and performed the cruciatus curse on him.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling thoroughly ashamed of myself, even if what I had said was technically true. "I didn't mean that."

"I think you did." His voice was stiff and cold.

I sighed and cross my arms over my chest. "Look, James…Scorpius is an okay bloke. Rose likes him and so does Al. Though not in the same way. But the point is, I've seen them together, and I told him that he'd better not just be messing around with Rose's feelings. And you know what he said? That he's fancied her for ages and that he wasn't going to let someone like her get away."

"Oh, so for Malfoy it only takes you a few minutes to decide that he's an all right bloke, but in my case, it takes you over half of a sodding term? Everyone – and I mean _everyon_e – kept telling you that we should be together and that I wasn't so bad and you wouldn't believe them. But you're willing to instantly believe good things about Malfoy?"

"It's not like that!"

"And why couldn't you tell me about them? Maybe we weren't dating, but we were friends, and there was clearly something between us! We told each other things and you cried all over my shirt and we hugged and…didn't that mean anything to you? Don't you trust me?"

"Yes, I do!" I yelled, feeling more and more exasperated by the moment. "But it wasn't my secret to tell! Merlin, why do you have to be so…so… I don't even know why I fancy an idiot like you in the first place!"

"Fine, then!" James bellowed back at me. He turned on his heal and stormed off down the stairs.

Shooting me sour looks as well, Fred and Hugo followed James out of sight. Almost everyone else reluctantly left the stands. Zara and Bree offered me looks of sympathy and Nico gave me an encouraging smile.

Part of me was glad that my teammates were being supportive of me – that we were truly friends, and not simply teammates. But on the other hand, it hadn't been that long ago that I'd lectured them on allowing personal relationships to interfere with Quidditch. I hoped that this argument between James and I didn't become something that interfered with Quidditch when our match against Ravenclaw and our chance at the Cup was so close.

"Are you okay?" Richard asked me as he appeared at my elbow. Lily was standing a ways behind him looking apprehensive.

"I've never fought with him like that before…" I said, feeling a bit lost. Merlin, what I had said to James…why did I always say the thing that would cut him the most? It was as though I had a talent for it. I supposed it was like people were always saying – those who know you best know the ways in which to hurt you.

"Want me to hex him?"

I couldn't help it; I hugged my brother. Shy, usually quiet Richard, who had been on James's side from the beginning, was now offering to hex my boyfriend because he perceived that I had been hurt.

"No, that's all right," I replied with a small smile, then joked. "Well…maybe just a tripping jinx in the corridor on his way to lessons?"

"You two are going to be okay," Lily told me. "James can be stubborn and can say hurtful things, but he always apologizes when he's wrong. Eventually."

"He isn't the only one who needs to apologize," I sighed and closed my eyes briefly. I knew that I had to tell James that I was sorry, but I wasn't ready to do it just yet. He needed to apologize to me as well and neither of us were at our best at the moment. I had the feeling that trying to talk to him now would only result in another row.

There was a loud bang from the pitch that drew everyone's attention. Glancing over the railing, I saw that Hugo had jinxed Scorpius. I watched in amazement as Rose whipped her wand from the pocket of her robes and pointed it directly in her brother's face. Fred approached slowly, holding his hands out in front of him in a non-threatening manner, apparently attempting to diffuse the tension.

From behind Hugo and Rose, Lyra Rinaldi pulled out her wand and hexed Fred before he had even had time to lift a finger. Madam Hooch blew her whistle while several professors came running. Students were yelling and the Slytherin team was pulling their wands on Fred, Hugo, and Rose. As if the scene between Rose and Scorpius hadn't been causing a ruckus, now the entire pitch seemed to be out of control. Gryffindors and Slytherins were flooding on to the pitch and spells were beginning to fly.

The world was going mental.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! Thanks to my fantastic best friend for her editing skills. And thank you for the formspring questions, which have been fun!**

Thanks to everyone for their patience waiting for this update. I know it's been a long time, but I've been very busy with grad school. I'm excited to be on break and have some time to write. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all of my wonderful readers! :)

**Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! **

**Next chapter:** Everyone has an opinion on Rose and Scorpius, and James and Eva have important things to discuss.


	26. We Need to Talk

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter 26:**_ _**We Need to Talk**_

_For blue and gold, for the much-needed encouragement and the reminders that sometimes writing is hard and it's okay to take my time in order to get it right. Thank you! _

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"They'll be talking about that for years, I expect," Lily observed as several of us sat around the fire in the Gryffindor common room in the aftermath of the fight at the Quidditch pitch. Rose was currently with Scorpius in the Hospital Wing. Hugo was there as well, unconscious and covered in bright green pustules, courtesy of Lyra Rinaldi. As it turned out, she was quite good at dueling (probably should have seen that one coming).

James and Al were nowhere to be found. I didn't know if that meant James was busy having it out with Al or if Al was trying to calm James down, or if they were even in the same place. I wasn't certain that I wanted to think about it. Just thinking about it was enough to give me a headache. All I knew was that James had been the one to use the _ennervate_ spell on Fred, which had allowed Fred to rejoin the fight. Then James had left the pitch and stalked off towards the school.

Fred reached up to touch his left eye, which was bruised a deep purple and blue, and winced. "Bleeding Slytherins. Dunno who elbowed me in the face, but they have the pointiest elbows in Britain. Hurts like a bugger."

For his part in the fight, Fred had lost Gryffindor a load of points, and would be serving detention every Saturday until the end of term. Hugo, Rose, Rinaldi, and a couple of the Slytherins had received the same punishment. All in all, the day had been a complete and utter disaster except for Lyra Rinaldi being stupefied. I _might _have laughed out loud (and cheered) when that had happened.

"I can't even process how many points your family lost Gryffindor in the span of _ten minutes_," Christine moaned softly into her hands, her Head Girl instincts coming to the forefront. "Now we're all going to have to work extra hard to make up for that loss. Ravenclaw will have the House Cup for certain this year. At least the professors kept everyone else out of it. _Thank goodness_."

The professors had wisely - not to mention quickly – put up a strong shield charm that kept those who weren't already on the pitch in the thick of the fight out of it. If they hadn't done that, Gryffindor and Slytherin House would both be in the negative points for certain.

"Rinaldi started it," Fred defended himself with an indignant harrumph. "_She's_ the one who pulled out her wand and hexed _me_ before I had even said anything."

"And I suppose you hexed Scorpius in self defense, did you?" Lily asked dryly.

"I can't believe you hexed Scorpius," I thwacked Fred over the head with a roll of parchment that someone had accidentally abandoned on the floor next to where I was sitting. "No, I take that back. I can imagine it. You're an _idiot._"

"I didn't go out onto the pitch _intending_ to hex him," Fred protested, now rubbing his head in an exaggerated manner for show. "I just wanted to threaten him a bit. Rose is my cousin - I'm not going to let some snake put his hands all over her. Things just…got out of hand."

"He was kissing her, not groping her," Richard pointed out logically from his place on the sofa next to Lily. They were sitting rather close to each other. He had a colorful bruise on his cheek where Fred had accidently elbowed him as he and Gareth were trying to pull Fred away from Rinaldi. That had been just before Scorpius had been hit with _stupefy_ and _impediamenta_ at the same time. I nearly winced at the memory.

Fred didn't appear remotely convinced. "Yeah, well, who knows what he does when they're alone?"

"Before the match, I asked Lily to go Hogsmeade with me," Richard said defiantly, his chin raising a fraction as he spoke. "Are you going to hex _me_ now?"

I barely had time to feel excited that Richard had finally worked up the courage to ask Lily out because Fred was saying, "Depends. Have you thought about kissing her?"

Richard's face tinged pink, but all the same he replied, "Of course I have. But James and Al are all right with it."

Fred's eyes narrowed in extreme disbelief. "They're all right with you kissing their little sister? I highly doubt that."

"In case anyone noticed, I turned fifteen in February," Lily chimed in, her voice a bit tight. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. You should know that better than anyone, Fred - you've been on the receiving end of my Bat Bogey hex."

Fred flinched involuntarily at the memory of Lily's expert hex. James had once mentioned something about his mum being skilled with that particular spell. Something about needing a good defense against six older brothers and a smarmy ex-boyfriend. Apparently she had passed her skills on to Lily.

"James and Al are fine with me wanting to go on a date with Lily, so I assume they know that I'll kiss her eventually. Probably." Richard's face was positively flaming at this point, but he was still holding his ground. I wanted to hug him and tell him how proud I was of him. Look at Richard and his Gryffindor spirit coming through!

"Sounds reasonable to me," Gareth commented easily. I agreed with a firm nod.

"It's different because we know _you,_" Fred said, quickly changing tactics as his original argument crumbled. "You're a Gryffindor and you're related to Eva Louise, so you're all right. But Malfoy – he's bad news."

"Says who?" Lily asked, brown eyes narrowed as she stared down her cousin. Seeing that expression on her face forcibly reminded me of James, and the thought of him sent a strange wave of both guilt and annoyance surging through me.

"Says everyone who isn't in Slytherin," Fred countered, tenderly touching a hand to his eye again.

Christine sighed and transfigured the scroll of parchment I had used to hit Fred with into an icepack. She tossed it into his lap. "Here. This will help."

"Thanks," he muttered, grabbed the icepack and pressing it gingerly against his left eye.

"Your family takes overprotective to an entirely new level," I said trying to wrap my mind around everything I had seen and heard today. I had known that the male members of her family weren't going to like the fact that Rose was going out with Scorpius, but I hadn't expected a fight on the pitch. "You're a very close family; I understand that. What I don't understand is starting a fight in the middle of the Quidditch pitch over the fact that Rose is dating a Slytherin. It's Rose's life, not yours."

"We're the children of war heroes, Eva," Lily answered, twisting a strand of deep, red hair thoughtfully around one of her fingers. I noticed that her other hand was now firmly holding Richard's right hand. "People want to be associated with us because our parents are famous and have money and influence. We look out for each other; we always have. But as far as Scorpius is concerned…I don't mind. I don't even know the bloke. I can hardly make a judgment about someone I've never met properly."

"I would be all right with Eva dating a Slytherin," Richard said suddenly. "If James wasn't in the picture, I mean."

Wait…_what_?

"No, you wouldn't," I snapped. "You very nearly had an aneurysm when I started dating Jonathan."

"There were _reasons_ for that," Richard defended himself emphatically.

"Yeah," Gareth agreed. "He was all wrong for you, Eva. Everyone thought James was finally getting somewhere with you and then you started dating that Hufflepuff."

"You never liked Jonathan _because_ he was a Hufflepuff," I argued.

"_No_, I didn't like him because he was boring," Gareth rolled his eyes. "There's plenty of interesting Hufflepuffs. He's just not one of them."

"The thing is," Fred said firmly, bring us back on topic, "is that he's not _just_ a Slytherin, is he? He's a _Malfoy_. Our families have hated each other for ages. Centuries, really. His family is part of the reason that my dad doesn't have his twin brother around anymore. His great-aunt tortured Aunt Hermione. His family would have happily seen our entire family killed."

"His _family_. Not _him_."

We all looked up to see Rose standing just inside the portrait hole. How long she had been standing there, I didn't know. She looked surprisingly calm. As she moved closer, I saw that her hands were clenched inside the pockets of her robes, but she was outwardly keeping her composure. Roxanne trailed behind her, sporting a white bandage across her forehead.

Fred opened his mouth, but then closed it with a snap, apparently thinking better of what he had been about to say.

Rose's gaze rested firmly on Fred. "Scorpius isn't his family. Weren't you listening when Uncle Harry told us what Albus Dumbledore once said? That is doesn't matter what a person is born, but rather what they become?"

"It's just…" Fred began, but Rose cut him off.

"_No,_ _you listen to me, Fredrick George Weasley_," Rose said loudly, making all of us jump slightly. "You don't know Scorpius at all. And I know we're all used to protecting one another, but you have to trust me on this. Get to know him before you judge him. He wasn't even born when all of that happened. Our parents didn't fight against Voldemort so you could sit here and pass judgment on people because of their family name."

Fred looked properly chastised by Rose's words. I watched the girl standing before us with a feeling of fascination. It seemed that Rose Weasley was a lot stronger than she seemed. I was more familiar with Fred, Roxanne, and James and their obvious emotional strength and outgoing natures and as a result, I had overlooked Rose's own abilities and strength.

"Sorry, Rosie," Fred told her heavily. "I just …I don't want you to get hurt."

"Oh, _Fred_," Rose rushed forward and threw her arms around him in a tight hug. Fred looked very taken aback by this turn of events. One minute his cousin had been dressing him down and the next she was hugging him. He patted her awkwardly on the back a few times.

"But this doesn't mean that I like him or that I approve of this!" Fred warned her as she released him. "He's still a Slytherin. And he's on their Quidditch team. Seriously, where's your House pride, Rose?"

"Are Scorpius and Hugo all right?" Christine asked what the rest of us had forgotten amidst all of the other drama.

Rose nodded. "Scorpius is a bit sore, but he'll be fine. He was able to return to his common room. But Hugo needs to stay overnight. Madam Pomfrey had to burst the pustules and now the open sores need to heal."

Everyone in the immediate vicinity winced. _Ouch. _My skin hurt just imaging it.

"He looks like a Potions experiment gone wonky," Roxanne sniggered slightly. "Wait…where are James and Al?" she asked as she surveyed the group sitting around the fireplace and realized that we were a couple of people short. Everyone glanced at me as though I would somehow have the answer to that question, which I most certainly did not.

"Dunno," Fred finally answered when I didn't speak up.

"He'll come around, Eva. I'll talk to him," Rose tried to assure me. I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but it really didn't help any.

"How have we not talked about this yet?" Fred wondered out loud. "That argument was…er…_yeah_," he trailed off as Lily shot him a warning look that clearly said that he had better stop talking immediately. 

"It was bleeding awful, it what is was," I groaned, rubbing my aching temples. I was definitely developing a throbbing headache. Not surprising, really. "I _don't_ want to talk about it right now."

"Well, I need to go and write a terribly uncomfortable letter to my parents before they hear the news from someone else." Rose sighed heavily, but then squared her shoulders and marched off towards her dormitory with her head held high.

Deciding that no good would come of me moping around the common room, I trudged up to the girls' dormitory to work on my Transfiguration essay. One of my paragraphs concerning the transfiguration of large quantities of insects needed serious revision if I didn't want to receive a pathetically low mark. It didn't have to be brilliant, but I didn't want to receive a T, either.

I had just finished rewriting my conclusion when Christine returned from patrolling the corridors with Jonathan.

"We caught James and Al out after curfew in the owlery," she said. She sounded a bit hesitant, as though she wasn't entirely certain that I would want to hear about James.

I sighed heavily and not so carefully tucked my completed essay into my rucksack. "Were they having a row?"

"Yes," she admitted as she unknotted her Gryffindor tie and unbuttoned her robes.

"Prat," I huffed in exasperation. "I know Rose is his cousin, but he, Fred, and Hugo completely overreacted and they need to leave her be."

There was a pause as Christine pulled on her pyjamas. Then she said, "It was about you."

My jaw nearly dropped open in surprise. "_About me_?" What in the name of Merlin's pants were James and Al doing rowing over _me_?

Christine bit her lip anxiously. "It wasn't my conversation to hear, but…well, James is upset that you knew about Rose and Scorpius and didn't say anything. But mostly, Eva, he seems hurt that you're willing to so readily accept Scorpius as a good guy when it took you so long to think the same of him."

"That's like what he said after the match. What a _stupid_ idea!" I ranted. "Those things aren't even comparable!"

"He's upset and jealous, he's not thinking straight," Christine told me. Her voice grew a bit hard. "And to be honest…I think he's more in the right than you."

I stared at Christine. I blinked slowly. "You do?"

Christine was my best friend for Merlin's sake – she was supposed to be on my side! That's what best friends were for, yeah?

"Think about how James is feeling. One word from Rose and you trust Scorpius when he's on the Slytherin Quidditch team and you've always distrusted all of them to a ridiculous extent just because of Rinaldi. Yet for the entire term there were several of us advising you to think twice about James because perhaps your perception of him was wrong."

"He was always rowing with me! What else was I supposed to think?" I asked through slightly clenched jaws.

"He wasn't the only one staring rows."

An awkward silence fell between us as we regarded each other across the space between our four-poster beds. I couldn't think of the last time that we'd rowed like this. It felt strange. Unnatural.

Then Christine spoke up again. "Eva, you're my best friend…which is why I have to be honest with you. You spouted off about Al, Lily, and Roxanne knowing about Rose and Scorpius without a thought for how that might affect them! I've sat in this very room and heard you tell me that you enjoy James's company, that you like that he respects you and your abilities, that he can always make you laugh, and today you told him – in front of the Gryffindor Quidditch team and his family – that you didn't know why you fancied him. And I would be a terrible friend if I didn't tell you that I'm at a complete loss as to why you would say something so horrid to him when I know you don't mean it."

I felt defensive anger burning up inside of me, threatening to escape in the form of angry words. How could Christine insinuate that all of this was somehow my fault? She wasn't being honest - she was completely out of line! I took several deep breaths and closed my eyes momentarily. And then it occurred to me that if I was feeling defensive, it was because deep down I knew that Christine was correct. She _was _being honest. _I _was the one who was out of line.

Christine always had been the voice of reason in our friendship. What would I have done without her? Probably gone mad, that's what. I hadn't wanted to hear what she had had to say - who would? – but I had needed to hear it. Desperately.

"Why is it that I never have to counsel you through relationship problems?" I wondered out loud.

Christine shrugged, but her stony expression remained. "Kieran and I don't really argue. We never have done. He debates in proper Ravenclaw fashion. It's just the way we are, but it doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with your relationship with James. You still want to be with him, yeah?"

"Yes, of course." I didn't even have to think about that answer. Then an idea I hadn't considered crashed into my mind. "Do you…do you think he still wants to be with _me_?"

Would James still want to date a girl who had publicly yelled at him that he was an idiot and that she didn't know why he fancied him?

Merlin, why had I ever let that slip out of my mouth…there was no (good) excuse for it. _What was wrong with me?_

Christine paused for a moment to consider, then said truthfully, "I don't know. But I do know that you need to apologize to him."

I nodded, my body suddenly feeling a bit numb as I thought back over the events of the day. All at once, the corners of my eyes were leaking hot tears I hadn't even realized that I had been holding in.

"Oh, Eva…." Christine immediately sat down next to me on my bed and drew me into a tight hug.

"W-what if he breaks up with me?" I choked out through my tears.

"I don't know."

Neither did I.

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If the fact that she had accidentally spread strawberry yogurt over her toast instead of jam was any indication, Rose was feeling out of sorts this morning. I supposed that I would look a bit peaky too if I was waiting for a reply from my parents after writing them that I was dating the son of their former enemy.

Giving her cousin a slightly wary glance, Lily gently pulled the butter knife from Rose's grasp and placed it down across the edge of her plate.

Rose didn't even seem to notice. She was too busy anxiously watching for the morning delivery of owl post. Then seemingly out of nowhere, Nearly Headless Nick floated through her on his way to the other side of the Gryffindor table causing her suddenly jolt back to reality. Turning back to her breakfast, she eyed her toast/yogurt combination with a confused frown.

I scanned the Great Hall for what felt like the twentieth time in not quite ten minutes, but nothing had changed. James still wasn't here. Neither were Fred or Christopher. Not that I would know what to say if I saw James, but having him missing worried me.

"I talked with James last night, and it seemed to help," Al told me with a faint smile that looked slightly forced. "He just needs some space. I saw Fred, Christopher, and him leave their dormitory this morning, but…well, I wouldn't count on seeing him today."

"I'm sorry, Eva," Rose told me mournfully over her ruined toast.

"_For what?"_

What in the world did Rose Weasley have to be sorry for? As far as I was concerned, nothing that had happened yesterday had been her fault.

"None of this would have happened if I hadn't gone and blurted out that I was dating Scorpius like that. I should have just stayed well out of it."

"Don't be daft, Rose," Roxanne cut in sensibly as she climbed over the bench and took a seat next to Lily. "The boys would have been upset no matter how they found out. And let's face it, James was always going to hold a grudge against Malfoy for all time for beating him at Quidditch."

I had to admit that this was an entirely likely scenario.

And speaking of apologies…

"Listen," I said, setting down my utensils and pushing my still-full plate away with a sigh. "I'm really sorry that I told James that you three knew about Scorpius. It was an accident, I swear. I was just so frustrated with him that it slipped out."

"Yeah…not your finest moment, Eva," Roxanne told me truthfully. She shot me a peeved expression. "Way to throw us to the dragons."

I internally winced at that, but Roxanne was correct.

"That's all right, Eva," Lily told me with a warm smile. "I just hope you two can work things out."

Al nodded understandingly. "You're only human. I grew up with James, so I understand all about being frustrated with him."

I was about to reply, when Richard and Gareth approached me on their way out of the Great Hall.

"We got him," Richard whispered surreptitiously into my ear.

Wait…_what_?

"Am I missing something?" I asked, gazing up at my brothers in confusion.

Al, Roxanne, Lily, and Rose tactfully began talking among themselves and ignored my brothers and me. It was very non-meddling behavior. How…_odd_.

"James," Richard widened his brown eyes, urging me to catch on. "We saw him leaving the common room on our way here, so we hit him with a tripping jinx."

Gareth grinned. "Lucky for us, he thought that Fred accidentally tripped him with his feet."

Oh…they had taken me seriously about hexing James in the corridors. It was rather meddlesome, and normally I wouldn't have appreciated their interference, but I had asked them to do it, even if I had only been joking. Even though I wished they hadn't taken me seriously, it was kind of a nice feeling, knowing that my brothers would support and protect me even if I hadn't asked for it.

I forced a slight laugh past my lips. "Thanks, you two."

"Do you want us to trip him on his way to lunch as well? Gareth asked earnestly, his face quite serious and a steely glint in his eyes. He mimicked flicking a wand.

I shook my head. "No, once is enough. He overreacted and said some daft things, but so did I. I said a lot more stupid things than he did."

They both nodded. "If you change your mind, let us know."

"Oh!" I cried as I remembered. "Richard – congratulations on asking Lily to Hogsmeade!"

Richard ducked his head a bit as a pleased smile crept across his face. He stole a quick glance at Lily, who also happened to be stealing a quick glimpse at him.

"He just went for it, didn't you?" Gareth grinned widely, elbowing his twin gently in the side.

Richard nodded bashfully, still looking down at his shoes.

"That's all of the details you're going to give me?" I raised an eyebrow. "After all of you've been so meddlesome about my life, I think that I, as your older sister, deserve a few more details than that."

"I'll let you tell it," Lily told Richard with a wide grin.

Ha, I knew they had to be listening! Potters and Weasley simply weren't capable of non-meddling behavior. They just weren't.

A light red blush stained Richard's cheeks. "I dunno…it was raining, and she asked me if I wanted to share her umbrella. So on the way down to the pitch for the match, I just pulled her aside and asked her if she'd like to go together the next Hogsmeade visit."

"I can't believe you finally asked her!" I smiled fondly at Richard. "I thought that perhaps she was going to have to ask you."

"You and everyone else," Roxanne said cheekily.

I caught Al's eye and we both smiled as I remembered Al and James's mad plan (that wasn't much of a plan at all, really) concerning Lily and Richard.

"Stop embarrassing him," Lily chided gently. She turned back to Richard. "I'm glad you asked, though I _was _prepared to ask you."

"Just seemed like a good opportunity," Richard mumbled. "Well, we need to go to the, er… owlrey," he added hastily, clearly finding the current situation a bit awkward.

I waved at them and then turned back to my breakfast with a slight smile. At least _something_ good had come of yesterday.

"Good morning, Rose."

Everyone's head snapped up to see Scorpius Malfoy standing next to the table. All eyes rested on him for a moment, before shifting quickly to Rose. I noticed that several of the nearby students – even those at other House tables – were watching the exchange. They weren't even attempting to be subtle about it either. Merlin only knew what rumors would be swirling around the castle before breakfast had even finished.

"Scorpius!" Rose greeted him cheerfully. She daintily dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "Your bruise is gone."

Scorpius shrugged, as he reached up to press a pale hand to his now unmarred forehead. "Madam Pomfrey took care of the swelling." He cast a quick glance down the table as if looking for Fred or Hugo. I could hardly blame him.

"You're allowed to sit down, you know," Roxanne told him as she selected a slice of ham from a platter resting in the center of the table. She pointed with her free hand to the empty place next to Rose.

His cool, grey eyes regarded all of us sitting near Rose carefully for a moment, then he sat down with slow deliberation. Rose beamed at him while he and Al exchanged greetings. It must have been strange for the pair of them to finally be acknowledging the other one in public in this new way.

"How's your shoulder? I asked him. After the problems I had caused, being welcoming towards Scorpius seemed like the decent thing to do.

Rose shot me a grateful look, while Scorpius seemed a bit surprised.

"Sore," he replied simply. "But fine."

"Direct hits are painful," I added with a knowing smile. "But I don't need to tell _you_ that. I've been lucky so far this term. I've only had to go to the hospital wing for some minor incidents. It's been quite nice, not having to endure Madam Pomfrey sighing heavily every time I walk in the doors."

"Madam Pomfrey enjoys informing me about the dangers of Quidditch as though I wasn't already aware," Scorpius said with a hint of a smile.

"Yes!" I agreed with a laugh. "That happens to me too!"

"You should have seen the look she gave me after that Bludger gave me that nasty bruise at practice a few weeks ago," Lily chimed in.

"She's right fussy about visitors too," Roxanne agreed. "You'd think visiting your cousins in the hospital wing after hours was a crime worthy of Azkaban."

"We tried to sneak in to see James one time after he'd broken his arm," Al explained for Scorpius's benefit. "We weren't very stealthy and Madam Pomfrey caught us. It wasn't pretty."

This was going quite well. Scorpius still appeared to be a bit unsure and distant, but then perhaps that was just his personality. Still, this was good progress for him and Rose. Who thought he would be willing to sit at the Gryffindor table? And here he was, discussing Madam Pomfrey with her cousins.

"What are _you _doing here?"

I looked up to see that the owner of the extremely frosty voice was Hugo Weasley, apparently newly released from the Hospital Wing. The look he was currently giving Scorpius was none too pleased. His light brown eyes were practically shooting sparks from their depths.

Scorpius slowly laid down his fork and knife and turned in his seat to face the lanky younger boy. His face remained relatively impassive. "I'm eating breakfast with Rose, her friends, and some of your family."

Hugo's long nose quivered a bit and he stared obstinately back at Scorpius. "Shouldn't you be at your own table?"

"Hugo, I know you don't like me, but I don't care. It doesn't matter how many glares or hexes you send my way because that's not going to change the way I feel about Rose. I care about her. I hope you can accept that."

Um…Could I just say that Scorpius Malfoy was not who I expected him to be? I didn't think Slytherins had it in them to act as he had over the course of the last two days. I had seriously underestimated him.

Hugo's fiery stare softened just a fraction. Standing up, Rose took her brother gently by the elbow. "I want to explain everything to you, Hugo. Breakfast in the kitchens together?"

Hugo paused, and then nodded, his shockingly bright red hair flopping onto his forehead. "Yeah, all right."

Our group watched them walk away with a sense of awe. Well, this was certainly turning out to be an interesting morning.

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During the afternoon, I worked steadily on my massive load of schoolwork that had been assigned over the weekend. Roxanne, Gemma, Sorcha, Christine and I all worked on practicing our spells for a Transfiguration practical exam the next day. Gemma didn't talk to me much, but that was all right with me. She did, however, send several extremely cross glares in my direction when she thought I couldn't see.

"Well, that was exciting yesterday after the match, wasn't it?" Sorcha commented during a brief study break. With Christine's help, I had somehow managed to evade her questions the night before, but naturally that was too good to last for more than twenty-four hours.

"It was _something_ all right," I replied, trying not to outwardly cringe.

_Exciting?_ Really? Ugh.

"I mean, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy – who saw that coming?" she continued her gossip. I realized with a sense of relief that she hadn't been talking about James and me.

"They're an interesting couple," Gemma allowed thoughtfully. "They look well together. And the way he kissed her like that…_so romantic_! I wish someone would kiss me like that."

Roxanne and Sorcha hummed in agreement. I thought of my first kiss with James and how he had placed his hands on either side of my face and how it had all been so sudden.

Sorcha must have read something in my facial expression, because she leaned over and patted my hand in a sympathetic manner. "I heard about your row with James. Don't worry, Eva. You two are perfect together. It'll be all right."

I pulled my hands back and tucked them under the table in my lap. Perfect was such a ridiculous label and far too much expectation. We were still in Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake!

"James and I aren't perfect, Sorcha," I told her firmly. "We're human. We're stubborn people, and we fight. We'll work it out when we're ready."

Gemma scowled heavily into her Transfiguration textbook. It made me want to tell her to bugger off and stop fancying my boyfriend.

"That's the spirit," Sorcha told me, voice cheery and hopeful.

Nothing seemed to permeate her preconceived ideas. I had just tried to tell her James and I weren't perfect – that it didn't exist – and it had gone in one ear and out the other. She hadn't heard a word I said, had she? Why couldn't she have chosen today to be normal like she had been that one time?

Sighing heavily, I returned to studying. Slowly but surely, I made my way through the majority of my schoolwork. All I had left was my Charms reading, but I wearily pushed the large tome away from me.

"I'm going for a run," I announced suddenly, with an air of conviction.

"You went for one this morning before breakfast," Christine pointed out. She eyed my determined expression warily.

I shot her a pointed look. "I need another."

I might have spent my afternoon working on schoolwork for lessons, but that didn't mean that my mind had been solely on my assignments. My mind had been continually wandering to James. I hadn't seen him all day, and that bothered me. I wondered what he was up to…what he was thinking. Knowing his stubbornness as I did, he had probably worked himself up into a fine frenzy by now.

I chose to run around the lake, just in case the Ravenclaws were spying on me. I couldn't allow myself to fall into too predictable of a routine with the final match of the season rapidly approaching.

The evening air was cool as I steadily jogged. It felt good in my lungs as I steadily breathed in and out, taking long, deep breaths. The sky was a mottled yellow and orange color. It was calming. Still, I enjoyed running in the early morning better, when the sun was just peering out over the tops of the mountains surrounding the castle and the light was shining on the water.

About half way around the lake, I saw a familiar figure standing at the edge of the water skipping stones. Well, not so much skipping them as throwing them out over the water as hard as possible. He turned his head to glance at me as I walked towards him, breathing hard.

"We need to talk," I told him as I approached.

James stared at me for a moment, his expression as serious as I'd ever seen it. "Yeah, I reckon we do."

My conversation with Christine from the previous evening flashed through my mind. Oh Merlin…he was going to ditch me wasn't he? I couldn't blame him, but the realization made me angry. Not angry with him, mind you, but angry with myself. James had been nothing but constant and (somewhat) patient. He had waited so long for me to give him a chance, and what had I done? Pushed him away by being completely awful to him.

We continued to stand there, staring at each other. Neither of us seemed to know quite what to say, or even how to begin. Stubborn people aren't very good at this sort of thing.

Then all at once, a fire seemed to rise up in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't going to just stand here without saying or doing _anything _and let James walk away from me.

"I'm sorry!" I blurted out, the words bursting forth from my throat. Well, sorry seemed like the best place to start.

He didn't say anything, just watched me solemnly.

Squaring my shoulders in an attempt to appear bold, I strode forward until I was standing directly in front of James. His arms were crossed over his chest and his stance was rigid. I stared up into his face, my eyes pleading with his own. His brown eyes, usually glinting mischievously, were colder than I'd ever seen them. Even when we spent most of our time rowing before he fancied me, he'd never looked at me like he was looking at me now.

But instead of causing me to quake, his hard gaze fueled me with a resolve to put things right. I'd faced down Lyra Rinaldi for Merlin's sake – I could do this. James was angry with me, but he didn't hate me. I hoped.

"Nothing can justify what I said. It was _stupid_. It was uncalled for and horrid and it's _not at all_ how I feel. Not a bit. James, I promise that if you don't ditch me like you ought to that I will never say something like that to you again. I didn't mean it when I said I didn't know why I fancied you… "

"Then why'd you say it?"

His voice was harsh and it made my chest constrict slightly, but I rallied my Gryffindor courage and refused to look away from his eyes. "Because I'm an even bigger idiot than I've always accused you of being. I felt defensive and I was upset and it's the most hurtful thing I could think of."

His jaw tensed as he remembered to the events of yesterday. "You certainly hit your mark."

"I don't know what else to say, James. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say other than I was a complete and utter cow towards you and that I don't deserve you. And I want you to know that if you break up with me, I'll fight for you."

"Oh, really? And how would you accomplish that?" James's mouth quirked up for a brief second, the faintest flicker of a smirk. It reminded me slightly of the smirk he acquired when he wanted to row with me. I wasn't certain if that was a good thing or not.

I shrugged. Gryffindors rarely had full-fledged plans (except when it came to Quidditch). I was completely making all this up as I went along.

"No clue," I told him honestly. "But you of all people should know that Gryffindors don't give up easily."

Another tense silence fell between us.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he muttered finally, running a hand through his dark hair. "You made a promise to Rose, and you shouldn't have broken it just because we were going out. Or were moving towards it. I overreacted about Rose and Malfoy. I know that."

_Were_ going out…as in past tense? My stomach seemed to have dropped. It was the same rushing and sinking feeling I had experienced when I had jumped out of that tree at home.

Taking a few deep breaths, I pushed aside my sudden feelings of nausea and instead focused on what he was saying. I would worry about the rest later. Right now, we had apologies to make and explanations to give.

"I can understand why you were upset," I replied truthfully.

James kicked at a rock sticking up out of the ground with the toe of his shoe. "I… I was jealous all right? When you were waffling on, defending Malfoy. A couple of brief encounters with him and Rose's word and you had no problems with a sodding Slytherin."

I sighed as I gazed out over the deep blue lake. "I told you, it wasn't like that," I assured him. "I'd never even met Malfoy properly until this year. I'd only seen him around Rinaldi."

"How can he be dating our Rosie when he's always been hanging around Rinaldi?" James asked, disbelief written all over his face. He made a sour expression as he said Rinaldi's name. I didn't blame him. Whenever I heard her name it made me want to scrunch up my nose in distaste. Or vomit.

"It's the other way around," I explained. "_She's_ always hanging around _him_. Rinaldi's dead set on him and he can't stand her. He let me punch her in the face, remember? I'm sorry if it seemed as though I don't trust you. I do. I just didn't have as many preconceived notions about Scorpius as I did about you because he wasn't on the Slytherin team until this year. You and I spent six years being rivals and disliking each other."

"_You_ spent six years disliking me," James corrected me. His smirk was more pronounced now. "_I _spent five a half disliking you. Or have you forgotten the mistletoe debacle of last year?"

No, I certainly hadn't forgotten about _that_. The entire incident was rather permanently etched into my brain. The memory of James standing in the middle of the common room pointing at me and Al with a rather bewildered and unhinged look gracing his face was as vivid as ever. It almost made me laugh to remember it.

Instead, I asked, "You're going to talk to Rose, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agreed.

"I heard you talked with Al?"

He nodded a bit tersely. "He was the one who talked me down from being so angry. He's surprisingly good at that. He told me about how's he's got to know Malfoy from studying with them, and how Malfoy is a good sort. I…I still don't like the idea of her dating someone on the Slytherin team, but there's nothing I can do about it. Rose got her stubbornness from both Uncle Ron _and_ Aunt Hermione. There's no talking her out of something she wants to do."

"She's stronger than I thought," I observed, thinking back to their spectacle in the middle of the pitch. Merlin, so much had happened in less than twenty-four hours; it seemed like ages ago.

"Rosie?" James asked with an unexpected burst of laughter. "Oh, yeah. She's quiet about it, but never underestimate her. I've done that and paid dearly for it. Last year, some of us cousins wanted to practice dueling over the holidays. I thought Rose would be an easy target. Godric, was I wrong."

I laughed at the idea of James being beaten by Rose in an amateur duel. The look on both of their faces must have been priceless. I was sorry that I hadn't been there to see it.

"Do you think Hugo will come around anytime soon? I mean, Rose did have a chat with him this morning during breakfast. He seemed cross and wary, but not homicidal."

James laughed outright at my query. "We'll see. If there's one person more stubborn than Rose, it's Hugo. The idea of his sister having a boyfriend is bad enough, but a Slytherin? Uncle Ron is still a bit prejudiced towards the Malfoys – with good reason, mind – and Hugo has picked up on that."

"Stubbornness and meddlesome tendencies aside, I like your family," I told James truthfully.

"You haven't even met them all," James said with a small snigger. "Just wait until you've meet everyone at a family dinner. It's completely mad, but it's a good time. Except for Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey. They're barmy. And Great Aunt Muriel's an old bat, but everyone else is normal. Mostly."

"Meet your family?" The words flew out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying.

James smirked. "Of course. You're my girlfriend so they're curious. They've heard a lot about you from mum and dad."

_You're my girlfriend._

I was his girlfriend. James wasn't breaking up with me.

"You…you forgive me, then?" I asked hesitantly, hardly daring to hope.

James chuckled softly, and his stance relaxed completely. I nearly sagged in relief. "Would I still be standing here talking to you and wanting to kiss you if I didn't?"

Slowly, pushing myself up on my toes, I leaned forward a bit to press a kiss to his lips. He didn't hesitate to return the kiss, adding his own warm, firm pressure. Running my hands up his shoulders to the back of his head, I threaded my fingers through James's hair, the ebony strands silky beneath my Quidditch-roughened fingertips. The electric feel of his slightly chapped lips moving against mine sent shivers up my spine.

I slowly pulled away from James and smiled up at him. At first he looked highly put out by this change in the situation, but then I took him by surprise by pulling him down so that were sitting on the bank of lake. I curled up against his chest with my arms around him, which seemed to be more than fine with him. He wrapped his own strong arms around me and I nearly sighed in contentment.

"You're kind of wonderful," I told him, angling my head to press a feather-light kiss to the bit of skin directly above the collar of his shirt.

"I do have it on good authority that my snogging skills are _amazing_," he teased me, kissing the top of my head.

I rolled my eyes. "Your being wonderful has nothing to do with your snogging skills."

"Doesn't hurt."

Well, if I was being completely and totally honest, it was a rather enjoyable perk.

"I fancy you because you're wonderful," I told him, gazing up into his face.

"Eva, you don't have to – " he began, but I cut him off by gently pressing a hand to his mouth and stopping his speech. He quirked an eyebrow, but I silenced him with a look and then removed my hand.

"I fancy you because you're stubborn. Because you see something in me that I just don't. Because you're incorrigible. Because the Harpies are your favorite team. Because you walk around half the time with your Gryffindor tie done up wrong."

"I do _not!_"

I grinned widely at him. "Because you can sound so indignant. Because you're clever. Because you respect me. Because you share my love of Quidditch. Because for some unfathomable reason you like banoffee pie."

"Because it's delicious?" James offered, looking slightly affronted by my criticism of his favorite pudding.

"It's vile," I gagged. "Banana and toffee? _Horrid._"

"It's an absolutely brilliant combination, I'll have you know. I will stand by that to the death."

"But most of all – and in spite of your terrible taste in pie - I fancy you because you can always make me laugh because you know me so well. I care about _you_, so you should stop doubting it. No more being jealous for silly reasons. Or any reason."

He arms tightened around me almost imperceptibly and on instinct, I leaned into him further.

"Of course I'll be jealous."

Er…_why,_ exactly?

"I've told you before," he said, answering my unspoken question. "You're a brilliant Quidditch player and you're very pretty - it's an unstoppable combination."

I didn't really have a reply for that, but I felt my face grow warm with contentment at his words.

"You know what I think?" James said after a moment of comfortable silence.

"Hmm?" I asked, fully prepared for him to say something clever and rather swoon inducing in that way he had when his voice was pitched a bit lower than normal. That voice had the ability to send waves of giddy tingles down my spine.

I could practically hear the grin in his voice. "We should go to the kitchens and ask if the house elves have any banoffee pie."

Ugh. I'd rather not.

"All right, then," I said with an overly dramatic sigh, making to move off his lap. "Though I don't promise to eat any that utter rubbish."

James wrapped his arms more firmly around me and pulled me back, preventing me from standing up and moving away from him.

"I was teasing." His breath was hot against my neck. "Let's just stay here like this. Just a bit longer until it gets dark."

I nodded in relief. Thank Merlin, no banoffee pie. "Thanks."

"For what?" he asked, brown eyes looking at me curiously.

"Not making me eat any of that horrid pie, of course."

James laughed. Using one hand to gently sweep my hair behind my shoulders, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my collarbone. "I'd rather put my amazing snogging skills to good use."

"Much better use of your time," I agreed with a wide grin and leaned in to kiss him again.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I sensed that someone was watching me. Cracking open a bleary eye, I saw Fred's face peering down at me.

"Fred!" I cried, sitting straight up in alarm. "What are you _doing_ in here?"

He gave me a funny look. "I'm allowed to be in the common room."

Glancing at my surroundings, I realized that he was correct. I also saw that James was asleep on the sofa beside me. He was still sitting upright and his head was lolling back in an uncomfortable looking position. We had come back to the common room and chatted for a while before apparently falling asleep on the sofa.

"He sleeps like the dead," Fred explained quietly, motioning to James's sleeping form. "I take it you've made up?"

I looked over at James and felt that now familiar swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach. I smiled slightly.

"Good," Fred said firmly, but with a mischievous light in his eyes. "I want you in the family someday."

In response, I flung a throw pillow at him. Naturally, given my skills as a Chaser, it hit him in the face. He spluttered indignantly and wandered back towards the boys' staircase muttering something about mad birds.

"That's what you get!" I called after him. "We are entirely too young to even be thinking about… that!"

"Huh?"

I looked over to see that James had finally woken up due to my yelling and pillow throwing. He was rubbing the palms of his hands against his tired eyes.

"Not you, your tosser cousin."

"Fred's a delight in the morning," James said sarcastically, and then yawned.

"I'm going to go and get ready," I told James as I stood up and stretched my arms over my head.

"Meet you back here before breakfast?"

When I returned to the common room after showering and dressing, I saw James and Rose standing near the portrait hole.

"I'm never going to be best mates with the bloke, but I won't hex him," I heard James say as I drew closer.

"Promise? Hugo already spit his rucksack open yesterday even after we talked over breakfast."

James hesitated, but then said, "I promise, Rosie."

"For now, that'll have to be good enough," Rose acknowledged with a small smile. "But I think he'll grow on you," she added just before she turned to exit the portrait hole.

In many ways, Rose couldn't have picked a worse boy to date than Scorpius Malfoy. But they seemed to genuinely care for one another (it was still a bit odd to contemplate the idea of that), so hopefully they didn't let their families and friends get in the way of their relationship.

As I came to stand next to James, I slid my hand into his. "Who knows?" I teased him. "Perhaps you _will_ be best mates with Scorpius someday."

James snorted disbelievingly, but appeared somewhat amused by the idea nonetheless. "Not bloody likely. No one can replace Fred."

I laughed at his statement. "Fred is one of a kind," I agreed wholeheartedly.

"Knew you secretly loved me, Eva Louise," Fred joked as suddenly appeared at the foot of the boys' staircase and bounded across the common room.

Oh, naturally he would have appeared right at that moment. Uncanny, really.

"You've grown on me," I admitted with a shrug of my shoulders.

"I like her," Fred told James, his tone half teasing and half serious. "You should keep her around."

I felt my face burn red at his words. Fred Weasley knew exactly what buttons to push to embarrass me. I really wished that he would stop with the whole "part of the family" talk. I was a long way off from being ready to even think about that.

James glanced at me and took in my flushed skin with a knowing smirk. "Yeah, I reckon I will."

I didn't really know what to say to that. So instead I settled for, "Your tie is done up wrong."

James glanced down with a slight scowl, trying to check his tie for himself while Fred howled with laughter.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! **

Thanks to everyone for their patience waiting for this update. I know it was a long wait, but I've had two family health emergencies since the last chapter was posted in addition to the ever-present schoolwork and the difficulties of writing this chapter. So thank you for your patience and for those who sent me message of encouragement. I hope that you enjoyed the longer chapter and everything that happened! _And don't worry – I will never abandon Game On._

**Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! **

**Next chapter:** James appears in a wet t-shirt, Tristan makes his return, and Eva gets a surprise or two in Hogsmeade.


	27. Letters and a Fair Bit of Awkward

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter 27: Letters and a Fair Bit of Awkward**_

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"I can't feel my legs."

"I can't feel my entire body."

"I didn't push you _that _hard at practice," I rolled my eyes at Nico and Bree. Judging by how much food Nico had already eaten this morning, he seemed just fine to me.

"We only have a few weeks until the final match," Lily commented. "We need to step up training if we're going to win and have any chance at the Cup."

Beside her, Richard nodded and smiled, but remained silent.

"Exactly," Zara agreed heartily. "Slytherin has 1,000 points in the bracket. In order to beat them, we'll need to earn 430 points against Ravenclaw."

Zara and Lily were right. The number of points that Gryffindor would have to earn in a win against Ravenclaw (so as to surpass the points held by Slytherin in order to win the Quidditch Cup) …well, we couldn't afford to be underprepared in any possible way, shape, or form. We definitely had our work cut out for us. I didn't doubt that our team could beat Ravenclaw, but could we beat them by enough points to take the Cup from Slytherin? That was the question. Ravenclaw was a strong team with players who knew strategy. We had beaten Hufflepuff with a score of 430, but could we achieve that against Ravenclaw?

I had to believe that we could, but simply believing wasn't nearly enough. We had to throw ourselves into our final few weeks of training and give practices everything we had to give.

"Do you think we can do it?" Bree asked, biting her lower lip in obvious worry.

"That's no way to talk!" Nico cried, seemingly scandalized. His eyes were a bit wild. "We have to believe. We have to. I mean, if I didn't believe in the Cannons…."

"The Cannons are rubbish. They lose nearly every match," Bree pointed out.

"Their time will come," was Nico's lofty response. He turned back to his breakfast, seeming a bit miffed.

"We can beat Ravenclaw," I said firmly, before anyone could say anything more about the Chudley Cannons. "I believe that. But believing is no substitute for hard work."

Zara grinned. "You're a captain to the core, Eva."

"Have I missed anything?" James asked as he climbed over the bench and took a seat next to me at the Gryffindor table. Something looked different about him this morning, but I couldn't put my finger on it at the moment.

"Just talking Quidditch," Richard informed him.

"Of course they were," Fred answered with a grin. "What else would Eva Louise be discussing?"

"I'll have you know that I am more than Quidditch," I informed Fred.

Everyone in the surrounding area fixed me with an unbelieving stare.

"I didn't say _a lot_ more," I rolled my eyes and returned to my food.

"What were you two up to?" Lily asked as she looked between James and Fred, unable to keep the suspicion out of her voice.

Fred chose not to answer and James shrugged nonchalantly. "Not much."

Now why didn't I believe that?

James could obviously read the disbelief from the look on everyone's faces because he said, "Really, we were just talking to Christopher."

Then it hit me and I nearly laughed out loud.

"James - your tie is done up properly," I blurted out in surprise.

His ears flushed pink. "It's not _that_ unusual," he huffed indignantly.

I reached over and gently ran my fingers over the red and gold striped silk at the base of his throat. I grinned up at James. "Is that what you were talking with Christopher about? He helped you with your tie, didn't he?"

My teasing was interrupted by the loud owl screech that preceded the arrival of the morning owl post. Hundreds of owls swooped into the Great Hall in search of their owners. A large brown owl fluttered down next to Fred and neatly deposited a parchment envelope next to his plate. At nearly the same moment, an owl dropped a letter next to James's plate, and then Lily's.

Lily picked up her letter, then considered James and Fred's. Both boys had seen the letters, but were still busy eating. A thoughtful look crossed Lily's face, as though her mind was working through a puzzle.

Fred picked up a piece of bacon and fed it to the owl, who hooted happily before flying off back the owlrey.

"Oh, Merlin…"

"What?" Lily asked, confusion etched across her face.

James silently pointed down the table to where Hugo was sitting with some of his fourth year friends. A handsome barn owl was sitting in front of him with a bright red envelope clutched in its beak.

"I'd wager an entire years pocket money that's a howler from Aunt Hermione…" Lily breathed.

"Oh, Godric, this is going to be bad," James agreed.

"Bet I can guess the contents of this envelope, then," Fred said gloomily, looking down at his letter.

"At least it's not a -"

James's words were cut off as Hugo bravely decided to open his letter and get it over with. The sound of a woman's voice exploded from the envelope, echoing at an earache inducing volume throughout the Great Hall.

"HUGO ARTHUR WEASLEY! I CANNOT _BELIEVE_ THE LETTERS YOUR FATHER AND I RECEIVED FROM NEVILLE AND PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL! WE ARE BOTH APPALLED AND DEEPLY ASHAMED OF YOUR BEHAVIOR. WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? STARTING A FIGHT WITH ANOTHER BOY BECAUSE HE'S DATING YOUR SISTER. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOUR REASONS WHERE - AND IF WE FIND OUT THAT HIS HOUSE OR FAMILY HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOUR ACTIONS, SO HELP ME - YOUR FATHER AND I DID NOT RAISE YOU TO BEHAVE THIS WAY. YOU WILL APOLOGIZE TO SCORPIUS AND TO YOUR SISTER AND WE WILL BE DISCUSSING YOUR BEHAVIOR WHEN YOU COME HOME."

A ringing silence descended on the Great Hall as the envelope burst into flames and burned down to a small pile of ashes in front of Hugo. For his part, Hugo was staring determinedly at his plate, his face stoic, but his ears blazing red with embarrassment. He refused to meet anyone's eyes, even though Rose was obviously trying to make eye contact from further down the table.

Half of the students in the Great Hall were looking at the Gryffindor table. The other half was eyeing the Slytherin table where Scorpius was sitting and looking uncharacteristically flustered and red in the face. Low chatter broke out among the students and I could overhear that much of the topic of conversation was the Howler, Hugo, Rose, and Scorpius.

"Well…" Fred said thoughtfully, breaking the awkward silence. "I think that actually could have been worse."

"You heard what my mum said," Rose commented darkly. "They'll be discussing his behavior when summer holiday starts."

Fred grimaced. "That's one discussion I want _no_ part of. Aunt Hermione can be a seriously terrifying woman."

"You have your own letter, remember?" Lily said, nodding towards the unopened envelope still lying in front of Fred. "We all do."

Everyone had been so caught up in the scene caused by Hugo's Howler that they had forgotten the other letters. Taking a peek down the table, I saw Albus pick up an envelope and study it before carefully stowing it away in his rucksack.

"I'll read it later," Rose said, scooping up the envelope quickly and shoving it into her shoulder bag. James had a troubled look on his face as he regarded his own letter. Then he placed his in rucksack as well.

"Oh, c'mon, you two - especially you, Rosie," Fred teased her. "I want to know what Uncle Ron has to say about you and Malfoy."

"You don't always have to be meddlesome, you know," Rose huffed.

"You'll tell me later, yeah?" Lily asked Rose with a hopeful expression.

"Yeah, all right," Rose sighed. "What about your letter, Fred?"

"Reckon I'll be spending the summer de-gnoming the garden at the Burrow," Fred sighed as he looked mournfully down at his letter.

"_Again_," James grinned.

"And who was it that had to de-gnome the garden after feeding Al all those cockroach clusters the summer after third year? Oh right, that was you."

"What's the Burrow?" I asked Lily and Rose as Fred and James continued to reminiscence about the numerous times they had been set the tasks of de-gonoming the garden. I had heard it mentioned before, but I had never taken the time to ask what it was, although I assumed it was someone's home.

"It's our Nana and Grandpa Weasley's home," Lily explained. "We spend a lot of time there during the summer holidays. It's where Mum grew up and Dad really likes it there. Says it's the first place he ever felt part of a family."

"Fred, stop stalling and just open the letter," Rose sighed exasperatedly.

"Where would be the fun in that?" Fred replied, but he picked up the letter all the same. Grabbing the butter knife from its place next to his plate, he used it to slit the envelope open. His eyes scanned the parchment quickly.

"Well?" James prompted when Fred looked up.

"De-gnoming," Fred confirmed with a sigh. "And I'll be getting a talking to when I come home. It doesn't sound as though Dad is as cross as Aunt Hermione, though – not surprising - but he said to remember that Scorpius is related to Teddy, and that since the Malfoys will most likely be invited to Teddy and Victoire's wedding that I need to keep myself from attacking Teddys' family. Also that I need to remember that it doesn't matter what house Scorpius is in and that it's Roses life not mine."

"I reckon all of ours say something similar," Lily surmised.

"It didn't say anything about harmless teasing?" James asked with a hint of a smirk.

"James Sirius Potter," Rose warned in a scarily stern voice. "Don't you dare!"

"Oh, c'mon, Rosie," James said, smirking. "We just want to test his mettle. Just a bit."

Rose narrowed her eyes dangerously at James and Fred. The two boys seemed to sit up a little straighter. "In case you hadn't noticed, I happen to like Scorpius very much. Don't you dare try and intimidate him into running as far away from this family as humanly possible."

Fred set down his letter and fixed Rose with a pointed look. "Rosie, if Malfoy ditches you just because you have a pair of prats for cousins and an overprotective younger brother, then he's a plank and you deserve better."

Rose opened her mouth, then closed it again when she couldn't think of anything to say. Her ears and face flushed a bit, and I could tell that she was pleased by Fred's words even though she'd never admit it (at least to his face).

"We're not going to run him off," James agreed. "Just make sure he can hold his own in this family."

"We're still finding out if _you're_ up to the family standards," Fred pointed the butter knife menacingly at Richard. Richard swallowed heavily.

"Nah," James waved a hand in dismissal. "Al and I picked him out, remember?"

Lily rolled her eyes and Richard looked a bit confused. As well he might.

"Oh, yeah," Fred remembered and abruptly changed his mind about Richard. He set the butter knife down. "All right, you're fine. Just don't go getting too handsy! Understand?"

"Oh, shut up, Fred," Lily said, but there was no anger in her voice.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

It wasn't until later that afternoon that I found out what had been in the Weasley and Potter family members' letters. Not being the meddlers they were, I hadn't given it much thought since that morning, but I entered the common room to find various cousins who were in Gryffindor huddled together near the armchairs in front of the fireplace. It looked awfully familiar.

"Well, if this doesn't look suspiciously like meddling, I don't know what does," I grinned as I moved around and perched myself on the edge of James's armchair. He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together.

Al shook his head. "Not exactly meddling…we're discussing our letters from home."

"Oh," I replied, suddenly feeling somewhat awkward for apparently having barged into a family meeting. "I'll just go up to my dormitory, then."

"You can stay, Eva," Rose said with a bit of a shrug.

"I don't to push in where I don't belong." Besides, I wasn't part of their family. This wasn't my any of my business.

Fred winked at me. "You're like an honorary family member for now. Until you become _real _family."

"Real family? Is there something you two aren't telling us?" Lily asked, her brown eyes suddenly very wide as she regarded James and me.

"No!" James and I both replied loudly.

"Oh." I noted that Lily actually looked a bit disappointed. I wanted to roll my eyes, but resisted (with great effort, I might add).

"_Anyway_," Roxanne spoke up, filling me in. "All of the Gryffindor family members received letters from our parents concerning Rose and Malfoy; reminding us about what we've been taught about other Houses and blood status and to judge people on their own merits. They were glad that not all of us were in on the fight with Malfoy and the Slytherin team, but they just wanted to remind us not to be hard on Malfoy because of his House or his family."

So _that's_ why James and Al had had such looks of concern on their faces when they saw the letters. Especially after Hugo's Howler, James must have been worried about what was in his own letter. This year as I'd got to know James, I had become familiar with how close he truly was to his family, including his parents. All of the Potter and Weasley family members were fiercely loyal and protective of their own. What happened when protecting Rose and being a loyal cousin came into conflict with being loyal to their parents and not disappointing them?

Huh. I shook my head slightly. I had apparently just managed to channel Christine, again.

"His name is Scorpius," Rose said firmly, her voice booking no argument. "He's more than his last name."

"Sorry," Roxanne said with a slight trace of sarcasm in her voice. "It's just force of habit."

"Well, unlearn it, then."

"Don't take this out on me!"

Er…take out what, exactly? Had Rose's letter from her parents contained bad news?

"What are you even fighting over?" Fred asked, voicing my own thoughts. "Your parents said they didn't mind, Rose."

Rose sighed heavily. "Not minding isn't the same thing as accepting it. And they said they wanted to sit down with me and talk about it when I come home for the summer holidays."

"Rose," Lily leaned over and wrapped an arm around her cousin. "I know Uncle Ron can be a bit….stubborn. But he's not completely unreasonable and you know he listens Aunt Hermione. I'm sure it was just a shock for both of them given their past with the Malfoys."

"I can understand why they're wary…but I can't help but worry that they won't be able to look past Scorpius's family history. Scorpius looks uncannily like his dad – what if they can't look at him without seeing Mr. Malfoy and be reminded of everything that happened when they were at school and during the war?"

I was feeling distinctly out of place; as though I was intruding on private family matters (even if the others didn't seem to think so), but I couldn't very well sneak away now. If only I knew how to cast a better Disillusionment charm. As it was, sneaking away simply wasn't an option. Especially with James holding on to my hand (though I didn't mind that part), but I supposed that was partially my own fault.

"I'll talk with them," Al offered. "I'll tell them about how I've studied with you two sometimes and how I've got to know him."

"I can tell them about that morning at breakfast when we were all chatting and how he was quiet, but nice enough," Roxanne chimed in.

"Me too."

Everyone - in amazement - turned to look at Hugo. His ears flushed a bright red. For my part, I couldn't believe that those words had come out of his mouth. Not that I knew Hugo well, but…given recent past events…

"Hugo?" Rose questioned, a trace of wonder in her voice.

"Remember that morning, when he told me that it didn't matter what I did? That it wouldn't change how he felt about you?"

Rose nodded, a small smile working its way onto her face at the memory of the particular moment.

"You're my sister," Hugo said slowly. "I'm not sure that I trust him, but I do trust you."

Rose nodded. "I just…I want you all to accept Scorpius. We've been over this – he's his own person."

"We don't even know him," James pointed out.

"Exactly. And I'm worried that you don't want to," Rose confessed. "We had to have our parents step in to get us to sit down and talk about this."

James's brow furrowed in confusion. "We talked, you and me."

"And that girls' night," Roxanne put in. "We discussed it a bit, then."

Hugo nodded. "And after the Quidditch match."

"All of us," Rose waved her arms around to suggest the entire family (and, inadvertently, me). "Together. We _always _talk about things. I've lost count of the number of times we all talked about Eva and James. But we didn't sit down and talk about this. And this…_this is important to me_."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the assembled group. Then, quite to everyone's surprise, it was Fred who spoke up.

"Sorry, Rosie. I reckon…. after our talk after the match, I didn't know what else to say…"

"I saw you two together - I had suspicions about you two and I had time to get to know Scorpius," Al told Rose kindly. "The others haven't. But you can have him over during summer holiday and let everyone have the chance to get to know him."

Rose paled a bit, but a steely look of resolve entered her eyes "You're right. Thanks, Al."

"Sure!" Fred said gleefully. "And then we'll test his mettle, just like we talked about at breakfast."

Ha, more likely put beetles in his soup or something else equally ridiculous. I had heard some story about Fred's dad doing that to one of his brothers.

Rose shot Fred a warning glare that said she was clearly not amused. Gryffindor though I was, her look made me want to take a slight step back from her just in case she pulled out her wand.

"Too soon?" Fred asked. "Well, it's like I said, Rosie. If being around our family runs him off, then you deserve better."

"Here, here!" Hugo agreed heartily.

"You know we'd do this to anyone you were dating, yeah?" James asked Rose, looking her levelly in the eyes. "I mean, I don't like that Mal – _Scorpius_ is on the Slytherin Quidditch team and I hate it that he caught the Snitch before me. The Slytherins have always been our biggest rivals and I thought he was off snogging that cow Rinaldi, so it wasn't like I could think well of him, now could I? But I wouldn't like it if he was on the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw teams and had beaten me either."

All this talk about making sure that the family member's significant others fit in with the family and testing their mettle (whatever that was supposed to mean) had made me curious about something. "How come you lot aren't constantly testing _my_ mettle?" I asked Fred.

Fred laughed out loud. "Oh, but we are, Eva Louise."

"You're sitting here, aren't you?" Lily smiled knowingly. "Even though the look on your face says you'd dearly love to be anywhere else."

"You put up with being called Eva Louise," Fred joked. "Also, you didn't strangle me that time James and I put hair dye in your shampoo bottle."

He had Christine to thank for that, actually, not my own self-restraint.

"You're still going out with James even though you know how meddlesome and nosy we all are. You even know we were meddling in your life. You had a few good opportunities before you two were dating to be run off by us, but you stuck around."

I had never thought of it that way, but now that they said it, I realized it was true enough. They hadn't scared me off yet, and at this point I felt it rather unlikely that they would; I knew how mad they all were (though if Fred kept waffling on about me marrying James, I was seriously going to have to jinx him.)

"Besides, we knew you before you and James were you and James," Lily added. "You knew Fred and Roxanne and Al and me."

"The rest of us will get to know Scorpius," James promised Rose with a true sincerity. "And then we'll make our judgments. Er…our _proper _judgments."

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it seemed to me as though Rose's eyes were a bit misty. "We're completely mad, but I love our family," she cried happily.

"We _are_ pretty awesome," Fred grinned. "I mean, any group that involves me is bound to be ace."

Roxanne reached out and pushed Fred off his chair while everyone laughed, even Fred.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

They (whoever the mysterious 'they' was) wasn't having just a laugh when they had decided to name the N.E.W.T. exams "nastily exhausting." The amount of schoolwork the seventh years were given never seemed to ease up. Richard and Gareth were having a difficult time of it with their rapidly approaching O.W.L.s. Everyone was so busy with schoolwork and impending exams that they were tired and tense at Quidditch practices. Still, we couldn't let up on training. Our match against Ravenclaw was the last of the season and would determine the winner of the Quidditch Cup. We couldn't lose and allow Slytherin to take home the Cup for a second year in a row. We just _couldn't._

Sitting in the Gryffindor locker rooms, I could hear the rain begin to pour down from the sky in torrents. It looked as though I wouldn't be taking my playbook outside with me today. Call me strange, but even though it was protected with a spell to repel water, I didn't like taking it outside in bad weather. My playbook was one of my most prized possessions, and I was always too worried that something would happen to it. But we were certainly still going outside to practice. The heavy rain meant excellent training conditions.

The door opened with its usual slight squeak. I looked up and nearly squeaked myself, and found that I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight in front of me. James was standing just inside the doorway, obviously having run through the downpour. As a result, he was sopping wet and his shirt was plastered to his chest leaving very little to the imagination. He really did have a very nice upper body and his wet shirt just served to highlight every bit of muscle definition in his arms and shoulders. I felt slightly light-headed.

James's ears went pink as he saw that I was blatantly staring at his torso, but he still said with a smirk, "It's nice to know that you appreciate my physique so much. Although I gathered as much from those signs about my abs that are still stuck to the stairwell walls."

I threw a Quaffle at his head. As I expected (otherwise I wouldn't have thrown it), he caught it handily.

"You have nice legs," he told me, strolling towards me, appreciatively eyeing the workout shorts I was wearing.

"Must be because I go running all of the time," I told him with a cheeky smile.

"Hmm," he said, pulling me up against him.

"I'm going to get all wet before we even go outside for practice," I complained halfheartedly, not really caring at all if I happened to get a bit damp. We were all going to be soaked soon anyway.

"Tragic," he mumbled, as he pressed his lips against my neck. The feel of his mouth pressing against and then gently sucking on my skin made me gasp slightly. I ran my hands through his hair – I liked doing that. He seemed to enjoy it too judging by the way he pulled me tighter against him. The strands of his inky black hair were just so silky and soft that it was sometimes difficult to keep my hands away.

"You're incorrigible," I told him. It came out in a breathy voice that didn't sound like anything that had ever come out of my mouth before.

"I'm starting to think you mean that as a compliment."

My eyes drifted shut as he trailed his mouth up my jaw and then pressed his lips to mine again, this time kissing me more deeply than before.

Mmhmm, this was nice. Well, _more_ than nice, really. His mouth was warm and he tasted vaguely of mint toothpaste. Much better than the other night when James had kissed me after he had eaten onions at dinner. Ugh.

"Er…hi?"

I roughly jerked away from James and immediately saw that, unbeknownst to either of us, Richard and Lily had entered the locker room. Merlin knew when that had happened. I had been so wrapped up in James that the whole Slytherin team probably could have paraded by and I wouldn't have noticed.

Scary thought, that.

"Lily!" James's ears were blazing red. It was quite funny how his ears always turned bright red when he was embarrassed.

"What are you two doing here so early?" I asked, glancing back and forth between them and their clasped hands. They were both soaked, dripping water onto the floor.

"The rain let up for a moment, so we thought we'd make a run for it," Richard said, not meeting my eyes.

Sounds reasonable. It was raining rather hard out there. I mean, look at James and his soaking wet clothing. (Swoon.)

"You came here to snog!" James accused them abruptly, pointing a finger at Richard.

Oh. Well, that made sense too.

"Like you're one to talk!" Lily shot back at James, her eyes blazing.

"I – I…you're my sister!" was James's oh-so-brilliant response. I resisted the urge to thwack him upside the head.

"Well, you're my brother, and Eva is Richard's sister, and we just witnessed you trying to stick your tongue down her throat, but you don't see us complaining!"

Er…she had a point.

"You wanted them to go out," I reminded James, putting a restraining hand on his bicep. "People who are going out snog. What did you expect?"

"It doesn't mean I want to _see_ it," he muttered sourly.

Lily rolled her eyes and pulled Richard further into the locker rooms. "Yeah, well I never wanted to see what I just did, but _I_ didn't have much of a choice."

I knew that Lily didn't mean it disparagingly, but her comment rather made me want to go dig a hole and hide in it. Caught snogging my boyfriend by said boyfriend's younger sister and my own younger brother. Merlin, how mortifying.

Richard grinned at Lily in an admiring way. I had never really stopped to wonder why my brother fancied Lily Potter (though I was glad that he did). From that smile he just gave Lily, I think it was fair to say that Richard liked Lily's boldness and gumption. Good for him.

"What do you think of the news on the Cannons' new Seeker?" Richard asked quickly in an attempt at diffusing the awkwardness that had settled in.

Everyone immediately jumped on the new topic.

"Weird."

"Yeah, I read about that."

"Didn't see that coming."

"It looks like the Cannons will be looking for a new reserve if they bring McQuillen up from the reserve squad."

James snorted loudly. "McQuillen isn't going to help the Cannons win any matches, that's for certain. He's pants at flying. Dunno how he even made it onto a reserve side in the first place."

Richard shrugged. "The Cannons are desperate."

I laughed at this. "There's only so much you can expect from a team whose motto is 'Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best'."

"They'll have their day," James said. "Some day. Maybe in thirty years or so."

"You've been spending too much time listening to Uncle Ron," Lily teased. She gestured at the bright orange Cannons shirt that James was wearing for practice. The t-shirt had seen better days, but it hugged James's torso nicely (especially considering it was wet), so I wasn't complaining.

"Would you play for the Cannons if they wanted to recruit you?" Richard asked James.

James tilted his head to the side as he thought for a moment. "Dunno. It's not that I need to be on a team that wins all the time, but it must be depressing to be on a team that has been consistently terrible for the last century. But on the other hand, it might not be a bad way to get a foot in the League."

"The Cannons might be the best you can do," I joked, poking him gently in the chest, directly over the Cannons logo on his shirt.

"You won't receive any offers because you're just rubbish," he told me with a teasing smirk.

"Oh, really?" I challenged him, raising an eyebrow.

"Really."

Richard was looking at us strangely. "That has to be the weirdest flirting I've ever seen."

Immediately, my face felt warm and I knew that I was blushing furiously.

"Oh, stuff it," was all I could think to say.

Just then, Nico saved the day by walking in with Bree and Zara. That made all of us, so we could begin practice.

"All right – stretch out properly and perform any rain repellant spells you want now, because we're going outside," I informed everyone.

My announcement about practicing in torrential rain was met with withering glares and groans. Except for Nico though, who just grinned and cheerily said, "I love being out in the rain."

"Only you, Little Chap," Zara muttered in reply.

As we kicked off from the muddy pitch, I thought to myself that there was a great deal of difference in being outside in the rain and flying through a torrential downpour. The sheets of water pouring from the sky were aided by strong winds, making practice very difficult indeed. The wind wreaked havoc on the Quaffle and Bludgers too, complicating matters even further.

I wasn't even certain how James would manage to find the Snitch in this weather. But I released it anyway, to give him some practice. If the match against Ravenclaw took place in weather like this, James would need to be prepared. As I had said before, there was no substitute for practice.

Once we were back in the locker rooms (the floor of which was now very, very wet), I drew some diagrams on the chalkboard in my colored chalk and emphasized how to throw the Quaffle and hit Bludgers in these kind of blustery conditions.

"Just think," I said cheerfully, despite being completely drenched, "if it rains at the match against Ravenclaw, we'll be prepared!"

But, to everyone's great displeasure, the heavy rain and strong winds continued for the remainder of the week, making every morning practice a considerably more soggy experience than usual.

"I don't think my hair has been properly dry for a fortnight," Bree moaned as she wrung out her long, thick hair in the showers several days later.

"You're a witch, aren't you?" Zara asked sarcastically. "Just use a spell to dry it."

"I don't trust myself with spells on my hair," Bree answered matter-of-factly. "Not since I accidently vanished my eyebrows, anyway."

I snorted into my towel. Next to me, Lily did the same and we exchanged grins.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

The next morning we didn't have practice, so _naturally_ the sun was shining and there was no wind to speak of. The ceiling of the Great Hall was bathed in the golden light of dawn as Christine and I sat down at the Gryffindor table next to James, Fred, and Christopher.

"Good to see you," I told Christopher. Except for classes, he hadn't been around very much. What was up with that? He, Fred, and James had always been close friends, even before we came to Hogwarts.

"Row with Savitri," he explained, sounding a bit mournful.

"I'm sorry," Christine said kindly.

I bumped my shoulder against James's. "If he and I can work through rows, I have no doubt that you can since you're far less stubborn than either of us."

"Thanks, Eva," he said. He smiled at me, but the expression was tight and a bit forced. "We'll see."

Ack, that didn't sound very good. Poor Christopher – he was such a nice bloke. He didn't deserve to have these problems. He hadn't had very good luck with girls in the past. He had asked out Christine when we were in fifth year, but she had turned him down. Then there was that friend of his younger sister's that had practically stalked him for most of last term. I thought with Savitri maybe things would work out this time.

"It's my own fault," he continued. "I spent so much time with her that I barely saw my own friends and then when I did want to spent time with them she got jealous and thought I didn't fancy her anymore."

So that was the reason Christopher had been absent so often. That made sense. I had to admit that he had got into quite a situation. He had always seemed to be the most practical of the three boys, but apparently he had trouble balancing friends and girlfriends.

"If she's trying to make you choose between her and your friends, then she's out of line," Fred commented with a deep scowl. As if to prove a point, he stabbed assertively at a strawberry.

"He's right," James agreed. "You just need to balance things a bit better. You can have both."

"'Course I'm right," Fred replied in mock outrage. "When have I ever been wrong?"

James's eyebrows arched upwards. "Last week when you told me to add the spine of lionfish before stirring our potion?"

"You clearly misheard me. I said nothing of the sort."

I caught Christine's eye and we burst out laughing. James covered in the goop of a healing potion had had the entire classroom in fits of laughter. James had found it funny as well, and had laughed right along with everyone else. It had been a sight to see.

"We're using your cauldron for the rest of the term," James said sourly. "I'm not writing home for _another_ one."

"How many cauldrons of yours has he ruined, again?" Christopher asked. His smile was genuine this time. James and Fred had been able to take his mind off his problems – good job them.

"_Four!_"

"Lies!" Fred cried, as he placed a hand over his heart, feigned being maligned by his mates.

"It's bleeding embarrassing!" James protested through his laughter. "Slughorn thinks I'm a miserable failure at Potions, thanks to you. He's always commenting that it's such a pity I didn't inherit the family talent of potion making. I'm lucky he even invited me to the Slugclub."

Fred snorted loudly and then chocked on his apple juice. "Like you'd want to go to those anyway. Talk about boring."

I had stopped attending Slugclub meetings after fifth year. I had only been invited because of my dad, anyway. It had always made me uncomfortable to be singled out because of my dad's fame. I wanted to be appreciated and/or liked for my own abilities and promise as a (hopefully!) future professional athlete.

"The last meeting wasn't so terrible," Christine said. "I met some potential contacts at the ministry. And at least the food is excellent."

A loud screech sounded the arrival of the morning owl post and cut our conversation short. I had written mum and dad earlier that week and was expecting a letter back from them any day. However, the smile fell form my face as I saw Gwenog gliding towards me.

"What is it?" James asked, immediately noticing my change in demeanor.

"I've got a letter from Tristan," I said, taking the letter from the brown owl and feeding her a strip of bacon off of James's plate.

"Oi, get your own bacon," he protested grouchily.

"Are you going to read it?" Christine asked me quietly.

"Later," I said, tucking the letter safely into my rucksack. "Not here. But I will, after lessons."

The letter burned a hole in my pocket all day. Lessons had never seemed to drag by so slowly (except perhaps when there was a Quidditch match the next day).

After the final bell announced the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts, I nearly bolted out of the classroom (and nearly knocked Roxanne off her feet in the process). I hurried back to the dormitory and threw myself on my four-poster bed. Practically tearing the letter from my rucksack, I unfolded it. I was disappointed to see that Tristan hadn't written much at all.

_Eva,_

_I want to talk to you. Will you meet me at the Three Broomsticks during your next Hogsmeade visit? _

_Tristan_

That was it? After everything he had said to me, after everything that I had said to him, after everything that had happened, _that was all he wrote_?

Just then, Christine walked in to the dormitory, not having been able to keep up with me in my sprint back to Gryffindor Tower.

"What does he say?" she asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

"Not much, that's for certain," I replied, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. I tossed her the letter. She took it, glanced at it, and then looked back at me.

"It's difficult to put down everything you want to say in a letter. No matter what he wants to talk about, I'm sure he thought it would be better coming from him in person."

Christine's words calmed me down. I felt my breathing return to normal – I'd apparently been inhaling and exhaling sharply through my nose the whole time.

Christine was right. Of course she was. Whatever Tristan wanted to say, it would be better in person. But was I even going to meet him to talk? I wasn't certain.

"Are you going to go?" she asked.

I sighed heavily. "I dunno. D'you think I should?"

"Yes," she answered honestly. "Just hear what he has to say. You can always leave if he's being a git, which is entirely likely. And you… you could ask James to go with you. For moral support, I mean."

I blinked. "Brilliant idea," I told her.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

It was Fred who answered my knock on the seventh year boys' dormitory door.

"Eva Louise," he said greeting me cheerfully and pulling the door open fully. "Welcome." He swept a hand gallantly to the side, motioning for me to enter.

The Gryffindor seventh year boys' dormitory wasn't quite as messy and disgusting as I had assumed. There were some spare socks and articles of clothing laying around, and parchment and spare quills were everywhere, but not overwhelming so. And it didn't smell sobad. That was always a good thing.

"I can see the floor," I said with a tone of astonishment. "And it doesn't smell."

"You seem surprised." Fred said with an air of false hurt over my disbelief.

I raised an eyebrow.

Fred threw his hands up in the air. "Oh, all right, one of the other blokes cast a perpetual air freshening spell."

I grinned. "Knew it. Do you know where James is?"

"'Course I do."

When that was the only response Fred gave, I shot him a withering look. "So where is he, then?"

Fred grinned in his typically cheeky manner. "You didn't ask that. You asked if I knew; that's a whole separate question."

"Fredrick George Weasley," I warned him in my best captain's voice. He seemed to take the hint.

"He went down to the sixth years' dormitory to talk to Al for a minute. He should be back soon. You can wait over there." He pointed to a four-poster bed that was obviously James's.

An orange Cannon's t-shirt was thrown over the trunk resting at the foot of the bed. There was a sock and a piece of parchment sticking out of the trunk. His Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration textbooks were scattered across the end of his bed along with some parchment and a precariously placed bottle of ink.

"The drawer is safe, but don't try and open the bedside cabinet," Fred advised me as he sat down on his bed, back against his headboard, and pulled a book entitled _Jiggery Pokery and Hocus Pocus_ towards him. Over his bed hung a huge vintage poster advertising Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. How fitting.

"Why?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

"He keeps his Quidditch playbook in there and the cabinet's charmed not to let anyone but him open it."

That sounded terribly familiar. I smiled to myself as I remembered the time that, as second years, Sorcha had tried to peek in my bedside cabinet for anything I might have had relating to my dad. That had been one nasty shock for her. Literally.

Curiosity got the better of me and I peeked inside the bedside cabinet drawer. Most everything inside was rather generic, but next to an inactive Golden Snitch was a large, untidily kept collection of chocolate frog cards. Something seemed off about the cards, then I noticed that they were all the same blue card.

"They're all Bowman Wright," I observed, running a fingertip over the card on top.

Fred shrugged. "It's one of his many quirks. He only keeps the Bowman Wright cards and he gives me all the rest."

I chuckled slightly. Trust a Seeker like James to keep all of the cards of the inventor of the Golden Snitch.

Moving my attention to the top of the cabinet, I saw the two pictures in their frame that I had given James for his birthday propped up next to his lamp. He also had a photograph of his family that looked as though it was taken a few years ago. The Potters were obviously on holiday, somewhere mountainous but very green. It was then that I noticed there was a piece of parchment stuck to the back of the frame that held the picture of James and I.

I carefully reached out and picked up the picture frame and turned it around. Tucked against the back of the frame with a tiny piece of spello-tape was a piece of parchment that had been folded several times. There were two sets of incredibly familiar handwriting. My heart was thudding in my chest as I stared at the parchment. _He had saved it._

The door opened and James walked in, then stopped short in the doorway. "Eva," he said, clearly taken aback by seeing me in his dormitory, standing beside his bed.

"You're downright sentimental sometimes, you know that?" I told him, brandishing the picture frame and parchment at him. "I didn't know you saved those stupid notes we wrote each other in Arithmancy."

His ears immediately grew red and an almost shy look of embarrassment flickered across his features.

"It's sweet," I assured him. I set the picture down and moved towards him. Pushing myself up on my toes, I kissed him gently.

"I'll just pretend I'm not here, shall I?" Fred called cheerfully from his bed where he was still reading his _Jiggery Pokery_ book. Oops. I had completely forgotten he was still in the room.

"Nice of you to forget about me," he commented casually, his eyes not even leaving the page. "And thanks for the information about James being a romantic sap. Cheers, Eva."

"I wanted to talk to you about my letter from Tristan," I told James as we sat down on the edge of his bed.

"Think I'll go find someone to bother in the common room," Fred decided in a show of tact. I was grateful that he realized that the letter was a personal matter that I only felt comfortable sharing with James.

"Thanks, Fred," I called after him as he closed the door behind him.

James took one of my hands in his, gently stroking the knuckles. "What did the letter say?"

I sighed. "Not much. Just that he wanted to talk and that he wanted me to meet him in Hogsmeade on our next visit."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "That's it?"

I nodded. "I'm going to say yes. Just to hear what he has to say. And I was wondering…would you come with me?"

"Yes," he answered at once, voice was filled with conviction. His brown eyes were intense as he gazed at me.

"Thank you," I told him, wrapping my arms around him. His button-up shirt was soft under my cheek and he smelled nice. Like broom polish and shampoo. His tie had been done up properly again (likely thanks to Christopher).

"I want to talk to Tristan alone, but I want you to be in the pub," I explained. "Just in case I want to make a quick exit. You know."

Later, we were laying back on James's bed, our hands clasped together just talking, when James suddenly announced, "Savitri broke up with Christopher."

"I thought that might happen," I admitted. Based on the way things had been at breakfast, it didn't surprise me.

"She didn't like Fred or me. That's why she never spent time with him around us. It just wasn't right, that she didn't try very hard to like us or get to know us. I mean, you spend time with me and my mates," James said.

His tone was agitated. Clearly, this had been bothering him for some time.

"I knew all of them before you and I were going out. And I'm not shy like Savitri," I countered.

James let out a long sigh. "I know. But she should have tried harder. And she shouldn't have been so demanding on his time and he should have set a better balance from the beginning. I feel bad for him, though. They'd been going out for months."

I felt sorry for Christopher, but there wasn't much I could do about it except be a good friend when he needed it.

"I'm glad that we're not just going out," James surprised me by saying. "I'm glad that we're friends."

I turned my head to see him looking at me, a small smile playing across his lips.

"Me too," I told him honestly.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"If he gets too annoying and insufferable, scratch your nose and I'll come over and hex him," James told me as we entered the Three Broomsticks.

"Thanks," I told him. "And thanks for coming." I gave his hand a small squeeze, then let go as I spotted Tristan sitting in a booth by the window.

My older brother looked nearly the same as ever. His light brown hair was still cropped short so that you couldn't tell that it was slightly wavy and his skin was had become even more tanned from spending so much time outside at the pitch. But there was hardness in the way he held his mouth that hadn't been there before.

Hi Eva," Tristan greeted me, eyes steadily regarding me. "You look nice."

"Thanks." I smoothed my hands over the top of my navy blue skirt. I had purposefully selected the skirt because of James's words to me about having nice legs. I had debated my choice, not wanting to look nice just for a bloke, but I did feel pretty in the skirt. I hadn't missed the look of appreciation in his eyes when he had first seen me this morning.

"Mum wrote me that you're going out with James."

I nodded shortly as I somewhat awkwardly sat down opposite of him. I would have to tell Mum that even though Tristan wasn't responding to her letters, he was reading them. That was something.

Tristan cracked a small smile. "Knew he fancied you. That whole thing with the mistletoe? Bloke couldn't have acted more jealous if he'd tried."

Just then, much to my horror, Sorcha walked by our table hand in hand with her boyfriend Oliver-what's-his-face.

"Hi, Eva!" she greeted me cheerfully with an enthusiastic wave. "I don't think you've met Oliver. Oliver, this is Eva Wood. Eva, this is Oliver Campbell."

Campbell – that was his surname! Much better than what's-his-face.

"Nice to meet you," I told him. As hard as I tried, I couldn't keep my mind from straying to the fact that Sorcha was dating a bloke named Oliver. It was bleeding weird, is what it was.

Oliver nodded at me. "You too. You're brilliant at Quidditch," he added. "Are you going to play professionally after Hogwarts?"

I smiled. He seemed quite…sane. How bizarre. "That's always been the plan."

Sorcha's expression shifted immediately as she turned to Tristan. Her eyes narrowed dangerously in a manner I had never seen from her before. It was a bit terrifying, to tell the truth.

"You should be ashamed for breaking your father's heart," she snapped angrily. "Poor Oliver Wood! How he's suffered because of you!"

And with that highly charged statement, she turned up her nose and stalked off. Her Oliver trailed after her inquiring about what had just happened in a very confused tone of voice.

"Don't mind her," I muttered, my eyes on Sorcha's stiffly retreating back. "She's obsessed with Dad."

Tristan smiled faintly. "I remember her. She asked me for his autograph once. Bloody strange."

He thought she was strange? He didn't have to live in the same room as her creepy Oliver Wood shrine. "You have _no idea_."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James sitting at a table not far away with Christopher, Al and Gareth. Fred, Hugo, Rose - and Scorpius - were all busy serving their detentions from the fight at the Quidditch pitch. James was talking with the other boys, but I noticed his eyes continually flitted towards me. The sight of him filled me with reassurance.

"Are you still with Elena?" I asked, deciding just to delve directly into what we had come to the pub to discuss. What good was coming here to see Tristan if we weren't going to talk about anything _important_?

Tristan blew out an annoyed breath. "She's not like you think, Eva. She's the only one who's been there for me these last few months. It's been hell, but she's stuck by me. And she's not some evil bint who swayed me into leaving Puddlemere. I'd been thinking about it anyway, and yeah, we talked it over, but she didn't make me do anything that I didn't already want to."

"Oh, and it's her father's team you _just happen_ to play for now, is it?" I retorted, unable to keep the accusation and sarcasm from my voice.

"I'm sorry that I didn't go about telling the family in a good way, but I'm not sorry that I joined with the Tornados. Even though I've had a couple of bad matches, at least I've been playing."

I stared at him. "You were bleeding _rotten_. It was all over _The Prophet_ and _Quidditch Weekly_. The entire Quidditch world thought you were a joke."

Tristan stared back at me with a stony expression. When he spoke, his voice sounded a bit broken. "You think I don't know that? Merlin, Eva…I played like shite out on that pitch and I know it. And I know everyone else knows it too. I didn't need you to tell me."

It was something of a struggle not to let my mouth drop open in pure shock.

"I…I…" I began, but found that I couldn't remotely find the words.

"I know I messed up by not talking to Dad. I've been a complete jerk to everyone in the family. And I'm sorry, all right? _I'm sorry_."

This time my mouth really did drop open of its own volition. Tristan was telling me that he was sorry? It wasn't as though my brother never said those words to anyone – he did – but his use of them was sparing. He only apologized when he truly believed himself to be wrong; when he truly meant what he was saying.

"….Where do we go from here?" I asked slowly.

Tristan shrugged and didn't meet my eyes. "I'm going to keep playing for the Tornados. I signed a contract."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Things like contracts didn't stop you before."

He at least had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself. Slightly.

"You know, I actually like playing with the Tornados. They're a good lot."

"You were offered that spot because of Elena, not solely because of your talent."

His mouth twitched. "So you do think I have talent?"

"I've never said you didn't," I countered. "You just think you have more of it than is strictly true."

"Eva…are you ever going to forgive me?"

I hesitated before I spoke. I took in his uncharacteristically sad brown eyes, the way his fingers kept twitching, the words that had passed between us.

"Yes. But it's going to take a while before things will be right between us again," I told him truthfully. I couldn't –and wouldn't – ignore what he had done, but…he was my brother.

"I'm going over to mum and dad's tonight to apologize."

"That's a good start."

"I wrote to Richard and Gareth, but they didn't want to see me."

I hadn't known that. I didn't know what to say to Tristan to make that hurt less.

"How's Quidditch?" he asked after another uncomfortable pause.

Merlin, I hated awkward silences. I was tempted to scratch my nose and bring James over to rescue me from this quagmire of uncomfortable, but my Gryffindor nature wouldn't let me scarper off now. And besides…Tristan was my older brother and I still loved him.

"Going well," I told him truthfully. "We've been practicing a lot. It'll be a difficult match, but I have confidence in our team."

"You're a good captain, Eva," Tristan gave me a small smile. "I reckon you'll end up captain at Puddlemere someday. That is, if you don't end up on another side."

"Even if I have to start somewhere else, I _will_ play for Puddlemere. Puddlemere is end game," I said, my tone final.

Tristan smirked. "You even have the captain's voice down to an art."

Had I been using my captain's voice? Huh. Oops.

"So you won't consider playing for another team other than Puddlemere?"

"I would only play for another team as a way to get a food in the League," I replied. "I'd sign a shorter contract and then work hard to get scouted and signed to Puddlemere."

Tristan nodded. "Solid plan, but I still don't understand why you're so opposed to playing for another team. Puddlemere isn't the be all and end all of Quidditch, you know."

I stared at my brother trying to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. Puddlemere…not the…_No_. _Just no. _

"Look," Tristan said, clearly reading the shocked look on my face. "First and foremost, you should be a Quidditch player, not a Puddlemere player. You should keep your options open."

I shook my head in frustration. "You just don't get it."

"I know better than you think. We're Quidditch players Eva. We need to play in order to feel…right. It's part of who we are. It makes sense to go where you can spend time playing in real matches on the pitch."

"I'd rather spend time on a reserve time training and becoming more skilled than playing poorly in professional matches. I believe in team loyalty and pride. Wearing the Puddlemere navy, it's all I've ever wanted. It's my dream, Tristan."

"Dreams change," he told me, a bit of harshness creeping into his voice.

"Not for me."

Tristan was about to reply, when I cut him off. "I don't want to talk about this any more. I think it's time I left. James is waiting."

Okay, that wasn't strictly true. James would wait for me however long it took for me to talk to my brother, but I was ready to leave. I had come here and heard what Tristan had to say. I had forgiven him, but that didn't mean that I liked what he had done or that I understood his actions.

"Say hello to Mum and Dad for me," I told him as I rose from my chair. From across the room, I caught James's eye and nodded once.

Tristan stood up as well, looking incredibly awkward. "Are…are you going to leave without giving your older brother a hug?"

In that moment - just for the briefest of moments - Tristan looked sad and just a bit alone.

"'Course not," I told him, moving forward and briefly wrapping my arms around his waist.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"How was it?" James asked once Tristan had left. Probably had to go back to Elena at their stupid posh flat. I suppressed a shudder at the thought of Elena, the conniving cow. No matter what Tristan said in her defense, I staunchly refused to believe that she hadn't played a part in my brother's decision to abandon Puddlemere.

"Mentally draining," I replied truthfully. "He's an idiot. I think deep down he knows he's made a mistake, only he can't back out now."

"He made his choice."

I nodded solemnly. "He was also talking about how we should be Quidditch players before being players for a specific team…He's supposed to be a Gryffindor."

Lyra Rinaldi had once suggested to me that Tristan would have done well in Slytherin. The thought made me want to punch her in her smug face all over again.

"But what about people like me?" James challenged me. "I don't have a specific team I want to play for when we graduate. I just want to play."

"You don't have _any _teams in mind?"

I found that boarding on impossible to believe.

James shrugged. "I have some I'd prefer over others, but I need to keep my options open."

"Keep your options open…that's what Tristan said." My tone must have sounded harsh, because James gently grabbed my elbow and turned me to face him.

"It's different for _you_," he reasoned. "You've probably wanted to play for Puddlemere since before you could walk."

Well, not quite that early, but close enough, really.

"When I was five I wanted to play for the Harpies," James said with a ghost of a smirk. "but that's never going to happen. I just want to play the game more than anything."

I nodded slowly and reached up to brush a strand of wayward hair off of James's forehead. He was right….I knew he was. He didn't have a lifelong dream of playing for a very specific team like I did.

I had been too busy with schoolwork and Quidditch practice to give it more than a passing thought before, but after Hogwarts, where would James be? Which team would he sign with? How often would we be able to see each other if we were on rival teams, and how would playing for opposing teams affect our relationship? The thought troubled me, but I pushed it away.

"This will cheer you up," James smiled at me, then pointed to a pair of fellow students standing just outside the entrance of Dervish and Bangs.

"Richard and Lily," I smiled at the sight of them. They were holding hands and talking to each other. Lily was grinning widely and Richard appeared to be blushing. They were, quite simply, adorable.

"I'm glad he worked up the courage to ask Lily out," James said. He reached out and enveloped my hand in his much larger one.

"Whose lives will your family meddle in now?" I wondered aloud and we strolled leisurely through the village. "You, Lily, and Rose are all paired up. Who's next?"

James smirked widely. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

"What about Fred? Or Al?"

"Ah, look who's caught the meddling bug now," James teased me, squeezing my hand gently. "This is how it starts, you know."

Oh, bugger. I _was_ being meddlesome, wasn't I? That's what came from spending so much time with the Potter and Weasley kids. Maybe it had been sitting in on the family meeting - their meddlesome habits were rubbing off on me!

I was about to reply when without any kind of prior warning James tugged on my hand and practically shoved me around the corner at the end of the street.

"What the – " I began to say, but James cut me off.

"Gemma."

Oh. Well, fair enough, then. I'd been doing my best to avoid Gemma ever since James and I started going out, though it was admittedly difficult considering I shared a dormitory with her. I'd been on the receiving end of several sour looks from her.

I rolled my eyes. "She needs to accept that you're never going to fancy her."

"Not unless I experience a traumatic brain injury," James muttered. "She's pushy and needy. Bit like Savitri."

"Hiya, Eva!" an extremely cheerful, female voice sang out behind me. Holy Hippogriffs, did I actually know someone that cheerful besides Nico?

When I turned around, my hand still held firmly in James's, I saw that it was Judith. And she was holding hands with Jonathan. He offered me a small smile.

"Hi," I responded, taken aback by their presence.

"Guess what?" Judith asked me, her eyes bright with happiness. "Jonathan and I are a couple now!"

It was very slight, but I could feel James's stance relax at Judith's words. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. What was it with blokes and jealously? James and I had been over this; he had no reason to be jealous, especially of Jonathan. I mean, let's be honest - Jonathan was a good bloke, but…he wasn't _James_.

"That's brilliant," I told the pair of them with complete honesty. It made me feel much better knowing that Jonathan wasn't sitting around pining for me. Merlin, the idea of someone pining after me seemed rather ludicrous, but he had been so hurt when he broke up with me. I was glad that he was happy.

"She's just always been there and I never saw her properly," Jonathan said, glancing sideways at Judith, a content expression crossing his face. "Until one day I finally did and it all just..._made sense_. In some way or another, it's always been her."

Judith smiled adoringly up at Jonathan. "Took you long enough."

I saw James struggle to conceal a smirk, and I knew he was thinking about how long he'd waited for me to realize what had been right in front of my face for nearly a year.

"Well, see you around. We're off to explore Scrivenshaft's. There's a new brand of quills in," Judith informed us. They walked off towards the shop hand in hand. All I could think was, _good for them._

"They're much better suited for each other than you and him were," James said offhandedly as we wandered in the direction of the Quidditch shop.

"I've told you before," I said, not bothering to conceal my exasperation. "You don't have to be jealous. I chose _you._ Now how about some Honeydukes chocolate? I could use some chocoballs after the morning I just had."

"Sure," James agreed easily. "I need to buy some acid pops for Fred."

I glanced up at him in suspicion. "What in the name of Merlin's pants does Fred want with acid pops?"

James shrugged. "Dunno. Sometimes it's better not to know. I just know he asked me to buy a box for him since he's in detention all day. Shame he has to miss our last Hogsmeade visit."

"It's not as though he'll never be able to come here again," I reminded James. "Besides, you two sneak here between visits all the time."

"Us? Never," James protested in a falsely indignant tone that clearly wasn't fooling anyone.

I expertly raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and that butterbeer at the parties after Quidditch matches just magically appears in the common room."

James cast an appraising look my way. "Maybe you notice more than I give you credit for."

I grinned widely. "Roxanne let it slip once."

"You're not supposed to go giving your secrets away," James laughed at me. "You should have just let me believe that you'd actually noticed something for once."

Later, after we had been to Honeydukes and purchased the chocoballs and acid pops (I made a mental note to myself not to accept any food from Fred for the foreseeable future), we wandered in the direction of the Quidditch shop. After all, a trip to Hogsmeade wouldn't be complete without it. An hour later we stepped outside each carrying a shopping bag and considerably less pocket money than when we had entered.

"Don't you just love the smell of Quidditch shops?" I said, inhaling deeply and smiling. "Christine and Kieran get this way about bookshops, but for me it's Quidditch shops. Not even Honeydukes compares. The broom polish and new leather…there's nothing else like it. Wouldn't it be lovely to live in a home that smelled like that? I wonder if there's a spell you can use…"

James halted abruptly right in the middle of the street, nearly causing a pair of students walking behind us to run into him. They twittered at us in annoyed tones as they swept by.

"Are you all right?" I asked. He was wearing the strangest expression - kind of a wonky combination between being hit with a Confundus charm and discovering that the Firebolt line would be releasing a new broomstick.

He didn't answer me immediately. Using the hand that was already holding mine, he pulled me closer to him so that I was standing directly in front of him, our bodies nearly touching. I looked up at him, confusion probably written across my face.

James's brown eyes fixed decisively on my own as he said, "Eva… I'm falling in love with you."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And a special thanks to my new beta, **_**blue and gold**_**, for the helpful suggestions and fabulous beta abilities. **

**Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought – especially about Tristan and about James's surprising confession (although Eva is likely the only to find it surprising)! **

**Next chapter:** Eva reacts to James's proclamation, someone on the Quidditch team deals with a wrist injury, and Eva finds out about the Marauder's Map and Invisibility Cloak.


	28. Reeling

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter 28: Reeling**_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"I, er…" James stammered, his brown eyes going a bit wide.

_Say something! Say something, you idiot!_ My mind fairly screamed at me.

James Potter had just told me that he was falling in love with me. I wasn't ready for that. I cared about James - of course I did. I cared for him in a way that I that never felt about any other boy in my life. But falling in love with him?

"Say something," James implored me, his calloused fingers gently running over the back of my hand. The motion was soothing, but my mind was still reeling.

"Oh."

Saying "oh" in awkward situations was apparently my old standby. Someone please just put me out of my misery. Right now would be absolutely perfect.

James's mouth twitched; he was obviously suppressing a smirk. I might add that he was doing a very poor job of it too.

"Don't laugh!" I cried, suddenly feeling incredibly distressed. "It's not funny!"

His smirk faded and a more serious expression crossed his face. "I meant it Eva. I might not have _exactly_ planned on saying it like this, but you were going on about wanting a home that smells like a Quidditch shop and I just… I_ knew_."

I stood staring up into his handsome face, a million different thoughts and emotions speeding through my mind all at once and making it impossible to think coherently.

"I was waffling on about the smell of Quidditch shops… and you came to _that conclusion_?"

"I dunno," James shrugged, looking at me a bit hesitantly. "The way you were so serious about it and waving your hands in the air and you had this silly smile on your face… Besides, a spell to make a room smell like a Quidditch shop is a _brilliant _idea."

"I…._you_…oh, Merlin."

It wasn't as though I were hyperventilating or having a panic attack or anything, I was just finding it to be an incredibly awkward situation. Where was a window when I needed to throw myself out of one?

James ran his free hand through his hair. It stood on end more than it had before, if that was even remotely possible. "Do you… do you think you could be falling in love with me too?"

"No. I mean, yes! I mean…Ugh!" I cried in frustration. "I'm just…I care about you a lot. _I do_. I do, James. But I can't say… I'm not ready to say that back right now."

Merlin…I'd never even thought about falling in love. James and I were just…well, we just _were._ Not in a stagnant kind of way, mind you but…all of my thoughts of the future had been centered on Quidditch. My career had always been at the forefront of my mind. I supposed it seemed a bit silly that I hadn't considered my future with James. I had assumed that we would stay as we were for now and see where life led us and I would consider the future when it got closer.

James looked down at the ground and nodded once, shortly. "I thought you… I mean, all those things you said to me after our huge row, about why you fancied me…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but I knew what words were missing. He had thought that I had been telling him that I was falling in love with him too.

I couldn't say that I wasn't….but I also couldn't say that I was. I just…I didn't _know_. Not like he did, apparently.

I bit my lip. "I meant every word of what I said to you. But I don't feel ready to say that I'm falling in love just yet." I paused, and then asked, "Are you cross with me?"

His head jerked up and his brown eyes widened. "Godric, no. Just…"

Disappointed. The unspoken word hung heavy in the air between us.

I huffed and crossed my arms indignantly. "Why did you even have to say that? Now I feel bad and it's awkward…"

Merlin, when were things _not _awkward with me?

Wordlessly, James pulled me into a hug. I pressed my forehead into his shoulder, the material of his cloak soft against my face. I felt him rest his chin on the top of my head. In the back of my mind, it registered that it was the same shoulder that I had cried on after our loss to Slytherin. There were no tears this time, but it was comforting all the same.

"I just wanted to be honest about how I felt," he muttered finally. "I'm not scared of what I feel."

I pulled away abruptly. "I'm not scared of my feelings! I just don't love you."

I immediately felt like kicking myself. Merlin, why was I such an idiot?! I quickly leaned forward again and placed a (hopefully) soothing a hand against James's jaw.

"It doesn't mean I won't, James. For Merlin's sake, I'm not even eighteen yet. Up until this year, I'd never even had a proper crush on someone who wasn't a professional Quidditch player. These feelings are all so new to me, and you saying that you're falling in love with me is overwhelming. Okay? I… you've always been so sure about me, about us. I want to be sure…. I'm not doubting us, I just… I want to feel certain before… it's important to me to truly mean it. I'm _sorry._"

James looked up at me sharply. "You don't have to be sorry, Eva. It just hit me like a bludger out of nowhere and I knew and I just blurted it out. I wasn't thinking. I'm a prat. It took you ages to realize that you even fancied me. I should have known this was too soon; that it would scare you."

I found I didn't have anything to say to that. I mean…what he was saying was pretty much spot on.

"I can wait until you're ready to say it back."

I bumped my shoulder teasingly against his as we started walking again. "You're awfully certain. Bit arrogant, don't you think?"

"Not at all. I think some people would call it dedicated and hopeful. Charming, even."

"Or incorrigible. Just don't be too intense, all right?"

James pretended to look affronted. "When have I ever been intense?"

I shot him an exasperated look. Incorrigible boy.

In response, James laughed and shoved his hands in the pockets of cloak. "It could've been worse. I could have said that I think we should serve banoffee pie at our wedding reception or that I'd be okay with you keeping your surname for professional purposes. And that I think five to seven kids sounds fine."

"You're getting ahead of yourself," I teased him right back. "Maybe tomorrow morning I'll wake up madly in love with Fred."

James's wide smiled immediately dropped from his face and he scowled. "That's not funny."

"Neither is the idea of seven kids!" I countered swiftly. "Or the idea of feeding banoffee pie to wedding guests. Your guests are supposed to be people that you want to share your special day with, not people you want to _poison_."

James shook his head ruefully. "I take it back. I can't be falling in love with a girl who just equated graciously serving the world's most fantastic pudding to poisoning."

I grinned cheekily up at my boyfriend. "Well, Gemma's still single, you know."

Without warning, James swooped down and pressed his mouth against mine. The kiss was a bit rough and demanding, and he placed one his hands behind my neck, pulling me into him. In return, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed him back with equal fervor.

Suddenly my mind registered that some younger students walking past were whistling at us, and I pulled away, my face flushing furiously. I looked up into James's face and suddenly I could see reflected in his expression the words he had told me not ten minutes ago. The realization made me swallow a bit thickly as my mind continued reeling.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"_Get in here_!" I urged Christine as she walked in the door to the girls' dormitory later that afternoon. I had been lurking by the doorway waiting for her, and now I grabbed her hand pulled her farther into the room.

After James's proclamation that he was falling in love with me, I had experienced shock. Loads and loads of shock. Then I felt flattered. Then I felt strangely all right with it. Now I had returned to shock, with the added bonus of slight panic creeping in.

"Eva, what in the world – " she tried to question as I practically shoved her towards her four-poster bed. I sat down on the edge of the bed next to her.

"James told me that he's falling in love with me."

"Oh!" she said in surprise.

I threw my hands up in the air. "That's what _I_ said! I mean, how was I supposed to respond to that? I think he said it too soon. Do you think he said it too soon?"

"Eva, calm down," Christine instructed me. She placed her hands on my shoulders and looked directly into my face. "This isn't the end of the world. Falling in love is a wonderful, natural part of life."

"But… we're still in Hogwarts! How can he…?!"

"He didn't say 'Eva, I love you' did he?"

"Well…no," I admitted. "He just said that he was falling in love with me. Is there a difference?"

Christine nodded reassuringly. "I think there is. Falling in love isn't quite being in love yet. It's the process we go through as we get to know a person better and as our feelings grow from being just a crush to something more. I definitely went through that with Kieran before I felt that I was really in love with him."

I rubbed a hand wearily against my forehead. "I'm still having trouble processing that he told me was falling in love with me."

Unfortunately for me, right as I was speaking the door to the dormitory opened and Sorcha, Gemma, and Roxanne walked in. Roxanne and Sorcha were looking at me with clearly pleased expressions, while Gemma's face was stoic.

Oh Merlin, this was awkward. With the exception of Roxanne, just the people I _didn't_ want to see.

"James told you he loved you?" Roxanne asked, brown eyes wide as she tried to keep herself from smiling too widely.

"You two are just _so_ adorable!" Sorcha squealed. For a brief moment, I thought she was going to lunge forward and try to hug me, but she seemed to restrain herself. She opted instead for clasping her hands together underneath her chin and hopping on the spot in apparent joy. I wasn't quite certain why she found this all so exciting when it wasn't even her relationship, but then I'd given up trying to understand the mad mind of Sorcha Patterson ages ago.

Gemma quietly stalked over to her bed and busied herself with unpacking the contents of a bag with the Dervish and Bangs logo emblazoned on the outside. Roxanne followed her, and attempted to quietly talk to her without much success. There was a loud sigh and a drawer was forcibly slammed.

I hesitated as I considered what to say. Roxanne would undoubtedly find everything out from her family anyway. Sorcha wasn't always good at taking in my words, but I could at least attempt to set the record straight for all of the good it might do me.

"Not exactly," I decided to tell them. "He said that he was falling in love with me."

"Oh, that's practically the same thing," Sorcha waved off my explanation.

"I think there's a big difference," Christine spoke up. I shot her a grateful look and she sent me a small smile in return. Thank Merlin for best mates. Seriously, what would I do without Christine as a buffer for Sorcha?

"If he's falling in love with you, it means that he'll be sure he loves you at some point in the near future." Sorcha's face was highly expectant. "What did you say to him?"

Now all eyes in the room were on me. It was rather unnerving. It was one thing when I was being watched on the Quidditch pitch during a match, but it was quite another when I was standing in my own dormitory and three of the occupants were watching me like a hawk.

Well, here went nothing.

"I said that I cared about him but I wasn't ready to say it back."

Cue explosion.

"Eva!" wailed Sorcha in tones of supreme distress. "_He bared his soul to you_ _and you rejected him!_"

Gemma smirked in a self-satisfied manner. Roxanne dropped her head into her hands, though whether it was due to my words or Sorcha's disproportionate reaction, I wasn't certain.

"I think James would prefer that she didn't lie to him!" Christine defended me. "She'll say it when she's ready."

"What if she's never ready?" Gemma spoke up for the first time since entering the dormitory.

"Gemma – shut up!" Roxanne spat, eyes flashing angrily.

"We used to be such good friends!" Gemma said shrilly, tears suddenly building in her eyes. "I thought friends supported each other. I thought you were supposed to care whether or not I was happy or miserable. You don't care at all – everyone's just so obsessed with James and Eva _and_ _I'm sick of hearing about them all the bleeding time_!"

Suddenly I realized that I had never taken Gemma's crush on James seriously. Gemma and I might not have been friends, but I felt a bit badly that I had never thought to consider her feelings. There had been plenty of times when Christine and I had talked about our respective boyfriends when Gemma was in earshot. I knew that I would have felt worse than rotten if I was in her place. She couldn't help the way she felt.

"James is all wrong for you, Gemma," Sorcha said, moving to the other side of the room and putting an arm around her friend. Amazingly, Gemma didn't push her away. "I'm sorry to say it, but it's true. And you're all wrong for him. You need to move on; find a lad that will feel the same way about you. There's someone out there for you. Just you wait and see. Someone that shares your love of Muggle music, and who's handy with _augamenti."_

Common sense from Sorcha Patterson. What was _wrong_ with this picture? A part of me seriously wondered if I was dreaming. Or hallucinating.

Gemma looked at me, her eyes full of unconcealed hurt. "You couldn't stand him."

Well, this was one conversation that I never, _ever _thought I would have with Gemma Finnegan. I wondered if it was too late to walk over to the window and throw myself out of it.

"I was wrong about him," I replied simply. "James understands me, and he's always there for me and respects me, and he makes me laugh. I care about him a lot. And I'm sorry that you fancy him, but…" I trailed off, not knowing how to finish that statement.

I mean, what else was I supposed to say? "Sorry you fancy my boyfriend, but he can't stand you. And anyway, he's falling in love with me." Yeah, that would go over brilliantly. She'd probably set fire to my bed hangings in retaliation.

Then, to my great surprise, Gemma nodded once. It was short and she didn't look at me, but it was still a nod. That had to count for something, yeah?

"I'm going for a run, I need some air," I grabbed a Puddlemere jumper that was lying across the top of my trunk and practically bolted for the door. Ugh, I needed out of this room. _Now._

"Come on, let's look at some vintage Oliver Wood photographs while she's gone," I heard Sorcha say just before the door clicked shut.

Well, at least she was being considerate enough to look at the photographs while I was out of the room. It was still creepy, but at least I didn't have to witness her gushing over the pictures. That was _something_, at least.

I decided to run around the pitch since I'd been running around the lake quite a lot lately. I didn't need to get complacent with the match against Ravenclaw nearly here. Knowing those clever Ravenclaws, they were likely still onto me just like they had been at the beginning of term. I needed to throw them off and not give them any sort of advantage.

The cool, early evening air felt good as I sucked it in through my lungs as I ran. I was in a zone, my entire body and mind focused on running. Nothing mattered but planting one foot in front of the other and pumping my arms through the air.

Then unexpectedly something caught at my ankles, causing me to stumble spectacularly and trip. I threw my arms out to catch myself, but I hadn't fallen exactly forward and I landed half on my side, half on my front. As I hit the grass of the pitch, my right arm took the brunt of my fall, and I felt a sharp pain tear through my wrist.

_No, no, no. _The match against Ravenclaw was only a week away!

Wait… the match…I sat up and looked frantically around the pitch, but there wasn't anyone there. Or rather, there wasn't anyone that I could see. There could have easily been someone hiding up in the stands out of sight. That had been no ordinary instance of tripping; I was more sure-footed than this. I had felt something almost grab my ankles.

Rinaldi, perhaps? If Gryffindor lost the match, the Cup would be Slytherin's. She had everything to lose if we won, and everything to gain by weakening the Gryffindor team.

I cradled my wrist in my left hand, and tried stretching it a bit. Stabbing pain shot through the tendons in my arm. From my many previous experiences with broken bones, I didn't think that I had broken my wrist. I hadn't fallen quite hard enough for that. I was working on standing up without using my right hand and had just managed it when I heard a voice call out my name.

"Eva!"

I lifted my head to see James sprinting towards me with his wand drawn. He yelled something and waved his wand over his head.

_What_ in the name of Merlin's pants was he doing? And why was he at the pitch?

"I saw you on the - I mean, are you all right?" he gasped as he came to a halt in front of me. He pushed his sweaty, black fringe out of eyes that surveyed me with worry.

"My wrist…how did you even know I was here?" I asked.

"C'mon, we need to get you to the hospital wing," he took my elbow to steer me towards the entrance to the pitch.

"Good idea," I grimaced slightly as I tried flexing my wrist again. "So," I said as we began walking. "What were you waving your wand around for?"

"Oh, _h_o_menum revelio_. Just in case."

I frowned slightly. "_H_o_menum revelio_? What's that do?"

James's face remained impassive. "It detects if there are other people around. I thought I'd better check. Like I said, just in case."

"Have I missed something?" I asked, my confusion increasing. "Because I'm starting to feel as though I have. I mean, I know it's a common thing with me, but… something's not quite right."

"Nah," James answered, then added, "So when you were tripped, how hard did you fall? Do you think it's broken or just sprained?"

I stopped in my tracks and looked up at James. I quirked an eyebrow. "How do you know I tripped?"

James shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. "You were on the ground. That's the logical assumption, now come on."

He started walking again, but I caught him by the elbow with my good hand.

"How did you know I was here in the first place?" I asked again, more firmly this time. "And how did you know that I think someone caused me to trip?"

I had the distinct feeling that he was hiding something from me. Normally, I didn't notice these things right off, but for once I could tell - something was wrong. Maybe it was because we were at the Quidditch pitch and my mind was usually a bit clearer after running.

James gave me an appraising look as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'll tell you later, all right?"

What was wrong with right now? It wasn't as though it could be some big secret. It was just that he was being oddly evasive about it and I wanted answers because my curiosity was getting the better of me.

"James, whatever it is just tell me." I said using my best Quidditch captain voice.

He made a face. "Don't pull your captain voice on me. Right now I'm your boyfriend not your teammate."

He knew about my captain voice? Weird. Did that mean other people knew when I was trying to be especially authoritative and commanding? Holy hippogriffs – I hoped not!

I felt my facial expression soften. "Sorry. But can you just answer me? It's a simple question."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened his brown eyes and looked directly into my face. "You can't tell anybody about this. Not your brothers, not even Christine."

Okay, now he was worrying me a bit. Was this some huge secret after all? I wanted answers so nodded my promise. Besides, this was James. I trusted him, whatever he was going to say.

"I have a map."

I stared blankly at him. A…map? I was being sworn to secrecy over a bleeding _map_? And what did that have to do with his knowing that I was out for a run?

Noticing my obvious confusion, James clarified, "It's a map of Hogwarts. It tells me where everyone at Hogwarts is in the castle at every moment. I was looking at it to, er… make sure that Malfoy was behaving himself with Rose, and I saw you down here. And I saw that Barnett was at the pitch with you."

"Who's Barnett?"

"Chelsea Barnett. One of Rinaldi's friends."

"It _was_ a tripping jinx," I breathed as I put the pieces together. "That…that sneaky, low-down _cow!"_

"I knew she was already gone when I got here, but I cast _h_o_menum revelio_ when I got here, like I said. Just in case."

My mind fairly buzzed as I worked to process what I'd just been told. "So you were spying on Rose and Scorpius?"

James looked as though he was going to tear his hair out in frustration. "You've hurt the wrist you throw the Quaffle with - can we _please_ discuss this on the way to the Hospital Wing?"

All right, he had a fair point. My wrist needed to be healed immediately before any sort of lasting damage set in. Nothing was going to get in the way of Gryffindor winning. I wouldn't let it.

"Let's walk," I said and finally allowed him to lead me away from the pitch. "So, you were spying on Rose?"

James made a sound of agitation. "Yes, all right? I was."

I threw a sideways glance at him. "Why? _Why_ must you all be so meddlesome?"

His ears turned bright pink. "I was only planning to interfere if he was…you know, being handsy."

I nearly laughed out loud at his choice of words.

"Rose can take care of herself, James. You said so yourself. And you promised to get to know him, remember?"

"I know," James muttered, somewhat moodily. "It's like Hugo said, I trust Rose. It's Malfoy – er, Scorpius – that I'm not sure of yet. I mean, I _want_ to trust him because he obviously means a lot to Rose and she's one of my favorite cousins."

"Just give it time," I advised. "Do you really think Rose is the sort to go out with someone who wasn't trustworthy or wouldn't treat her right? Besides, Scorpius knows full well that she has a mad, protective family."

"I just wish he hadn't beaten me at Quidditch."

"I know," I sympathized with a slight sigh, remembering back to the lost match against Slytherin. Merlin, that seemed ages ago now. "Neither do I. But chances are he won't be the last, you know."

It sounded a bit harsh, but I hadn't meant it that way. Everyone got beaten sometimes. It was just a fact of life. James knew that.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"This map…" I said thoughtfully. "Do you have it with you right now?"

Wordlessly James took an old, folded piece of parchment from the left pocket of his robes and handed it to me. For some reason, the worn and folded parchment looked vaguely familiar. How could that be? I mean, it was parchment. It pretty much all looked alike.

Pulling out his wand, James taped the parchment once. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good."

At once, inky words began to appear from the exact spot where he his wand had touched the parchment. Gleaming, bright green letters proclaiming that, "_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP._" appeared across the piece of parchment.

"My grandfather and his mates created it while they were at Hogwarts," James told me proudly. "And my dad and my Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione used it while they were here. Got it from my Uncle George and Uncle Fred who found in Filch's office. And now my siblings and I have it and we share with it Fred sometimes."

"I've seen this before…" I realized in amazement.

James looked up at me and smirked slightly. "Al told me you were curious about it. He reckoned that you suspected there was something wonky about it."

I couldn't help but smile as I remembered my encounter with Al in the owlrey. "He had me convinced that it was just a bit of trick parchment from your Uncle George's shop."

"It's a handy built-in explanation," James explained. "Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs were clever blokes."

As we approached the massive front doors to the castle, a thought suddenly struck me. I stopped in my tracks and turned to face James.

"Who else do you keep track of using this map?"

"People." Was his cryptic response.

"You're a well of information today," I told him sarcastically. "So who are these mysterious people you're spying on?"

He shrugged. "Lily and Richard every once in a while, just for good measure. Al used it a lot when he suspected something was going on between Rose and Scorpius to keep me from seeing them together on the map. Not that I would have thought to be watching out for them. Mostly we use it to sneak to Hogsmeade or to the kitchens without getting caught."

"Have you ever used it to find out where I am? Besides today, I mean."

A strange look crossed James's face and I knew his answer before he even spoke. Oh, bugger.

"Er…really only when you were with Jonathan. I was so jealous…you don't…"

When I was dating Jonathan? Ugh, how awkward. Forget I asked.

"Merlin, James," I sighed heavily. "You're even more of a nosy parker than I gave you credit for. What was there to spy on?"

Jonathan and I had been completely boring, or so my younger brothers had informed me. And I would be the first to wholeheartedly agree to that assessment of our relationship. It would have been like watching paint dry, only less exciting, considering we mostly studied in the library together.

James at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed of himself. "I needed to know how serious it was between you two…if there was any reason for me to hope."

Well, that just made no sense what so ever. "How could you tell how serious we were from a map?"

The moment the question left my lips, his ears turned pink. "How much time you were spending with him alone."

"Which was practically none," I pointed out in a flat voice. "It's a bit of a stretch to call time spent studying in the Hogwarts library alone time. We mostly studied with Christine and Kieran anyway."

"There's more," he admitted hesitantly. "I don't want to lie to you - I don't want there to be secrets between us. But you _really_ can't tell anyone about this one. Promise?"

"More?"

"Promise?" he urged me again.

I sighed heavily. "I promise."

How could there be more? He already owned an enchanted map of Hogwarts. What else could there possibly be to tell me?

"I have an invisibility cloak. Or rather, Al, Lily, and I have an invisibility cloak."

Well, there was always that. He and his siblings owned an invisibility cloak. Oh yeah, no big deal.

Holy hippogriffs!

"I….how? Those are incredibly rare, not to mention terribly expensive."

"You know all those stories about my dad? Well, he had an invisibility cloak. It's a family heirloom."

I stared blankly at James for what felt like the millionth time that afternoon alone. "You're taking the mickey. You have Harry Potter's invisibility cloak? _In your dormitory?"_

"Afraid so," he nodded his head, watching my face with sharp interest.

"You have a invisibility cloak," I repeated stupidly. Holy hippogriffs, my boyfriend owned (well, partially) Harry Potter's invisibility cloak. I felt the need to pinch myself. Perhaps I was hallucinating and this entire conversation was entirely in my mind.

James scratched the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly. "Yeah, well, Al and I nicked both of them – the cloak and the map. I mean, Dad knows we did it and everything. I reckon he wanted us to have some adventures like he did at Hogwarts with Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. And he can cast a really powerful disillusionment charm. Besides, we'll give it back when Lily is finished at Hogwarts. But like I said, that's top secret. If people knew, we'd be in _loads_ of trouble."

Then something clicked in my brain and I remembered why James had told me all about the invisibility cloak in the first place.

"You've spied on me when I was with Jonathan using the cloak!" I accused him, my eyes widening with realization.

James didn't bother to deny it. "Look, I know it was wrong, all right? I'm trying to be honest with you, here."

"_Wrong?"_ I all but shouted at him. "_Wrong_? You think so?"

"I haven't done it since you two broke up. And it was only a few times, mostly in the library, and a few times in the corridors. And it sometimes it wasn't even me. Sometimes it was just Fred and Al."

"Oh, well, that's all right, then," I snarled sarcastically.

What was he thinking? Well, clearly he _wasn't_ thinking. That was the entire problem. In the corridors…in the library…Fred and Al…

"That's how Fred saw Jonathan break up with me," I said more to myself than James. "He was there all along, under the cloak wasn't he?" I demanded hotly, reaching out and poking James in the chest with my uninjured left hand.

"Yes," the single word fell from his lips.

"_Thank you_ for being honest," I told him stiffly as I pushed past him and strode in the doors. Hot embarrassment licked at my insides. James, Fred, and Al had watched me kiss Jonathan. Oh, Merlin…I'd never been so tempted to throw myself out of a window, not even when Sorcha was prattling on about my dad.

"Eva, I'm sorry!" he called after me.

I spun around to face him and nearly bumped into his chest. I stepped back, putting some distance between us.

"You're _sorry_?" I echoed hollowly. "You…you invaded my privacy. Repeatedly! I've never been so embarrassed in my whole life!"

"You don't have any reason to be embarrassed. I haven't done it since and I promise I won't ever do it again," he promised me.

"You're right, James. You won't," I said in a hard voice. I turned around and stalked off down the corridor.

James didn't try to follow me. Normally, I would have found that strange. He was the sort that followed you even when you didn't want him to. However, in that moment all I could think about was the burning embarrassment flaring in my chest and the pain in my wrist.

As I rounded the corner to the Hospital Wing, I very nearly collided with Lyra Rinaldi. My eyes narrowed instinctively.

An injury to the Gryffindor Quidditch captain? It had Lyra Rinaldi written all over it. She was clever enough not to do it herself and risk losing her place as captain or be implicated, but her friends clearly had no qualms about doing her dirty work for her.

"Looks like that's really hurting you, Wood," Rinaldi observed snidely, motioning to my wrist, which I was supporting with my left hand. "My, my, what's the Gryffindor team going to do with their star chaser injured?"

"You think a sprain is going to stop us from taking the Cup?" I laughed derisively. "I could play with this injury and _still _beat Ravenclaw."

Okay, big words, and I wasn't certain that they were strictly true but I wasn't about to stand here and let her bully me like she always did.

"We'll see," she answered simply, her voice cold.

"Get _out _of my way," I all but snarled at her.

"So easy to rile up," she laughed softly as she strode away, her black hair swishing behind her.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"What have you done to yourself now, Miss Wood?" was how Madam Pomfrey greeted me as I walked into the Hospital Wing.

I held up my wrist. "I took a hard fall and landed on my wrist," I explained.

Clucking attentively as she ushered me to a bed, she gently took my wrist in her pale, cool hands and began her routine examination.

"Hullo," a voice from the next bed said.

I looked up sharply to see a boy about my age sitting up against the headboard of his bed. He was holding an empty potions vial.

"Er… hi," I replied and then winced as Madam Pomfrey flexed my wrist gently back and forth, testing the muscles.

"Here, take this potion," Madam Pomfrey instructed me, handing me a small vial similar to the one the boy across from me was holding. "It promotes healing of the muscles. I'll be back in five minutes to check on you and bring you something for the pain."

She bustled off to her store cupboard.

"You don't know who I am, do you?" the boy asked with a knowing smile.

I peered at him. He had medium length strawberry blonde hair that looked perfectly coifed in an effortless sort of way and bright blue eyes. A smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks stood out against his fair skin. His robes bore the color and crest of Hufflepuff. He looked somewhat familiar, but not anymore than if I'd ever shared lessons with him.

"No, sorry."

"Louis Weasley," he told me, his smile widening. "I believe you're dating my cousin."

"Sorry!" I said, suddenly quite embarrassed not to have recognized one of my own boyfriend's family members. Holy hippogriffs, what a day.

"That's all right," he told me easily. "I was forewarned. Your reputation for being oblivious precedes you."

Oh, _that _was just terribly reassuring.

"Did you hear that from James or Fred?" I wondered.

He grinned. "Everyone, really. Or at least all of the Gryffindors."

Meddlesome lot.

"The Gryffindors in the family don't know when to leave well enough alone," Louis observed. "And they're not good at letting things take their natural course."

I stared at him in wonder. "Do you mean to tell me that there are actually members of your family who don't poke their noses into everyone else's lives?"

Louis threw his head back and laughed loudly at this. "Wonky thought, yeah? Though in the interest of full disclosure, I should say that they've pulled me into a few of their schemes before."

"It's hard to avoid," I laughed. "They're rather persistent."

"Miss Wood," Madam Pomfrey called as she approached. She gently held out a small vial containing a sickly mauve colored potion that I recognized well. "Drink up. It'll do you good since you've decided to injure yourself yet again. Dangerous sport, Quidditch. Letting children play it, dear me."

"Cheers," Louis told me as I accepted the potion from the matron.

"Cheers," I replied, before bringing the vial to my lips and swallowing the pain potion in one quick gulp. Experience had taught me that it was better to drink it quickly so there was less chance of letting the taste linger. I'd had worse potions, but no medical potion ever tasted _good_.

Then Madam Pomfrey wrapped my wrist in gauze with a splint to keep the wrist straight and placed a light warming charm on the bandaging to ease the muscles. She instructed me about gently stretching my wrist and fingers and told me to come back if I didn't improve as I thought I should.

I had been through this so many times I could have recited her spiel nearly word for word. Finally she said, "Well, you're free to go, Miss Wood. And for goodness' sake, take care of yourself. Now Mr. Weasley, let's see how that potion worked for you."

"Nice to finally meet you, Eva," Louis said as I swung my legs over the edge of the hospital bed and stood up.

"Nice to meet you too," I replied with a smile. "I suppose I'll see you around now that I'll recognize you."

Louis laughed and then winced as Madam Pomfrey prodded his ear with her wand. "We'll see about that."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Eva!" Lily cried urgently as I climbed through the portrait hole after having been fussed over by Madam Pomfrey for much longer than I was certain was strictly necessary. Lily and Christine were standing just inside the portrait hole, clearly waiting for me.

"I don't believe it," Christine said firmly. "She wouldn't."

"What happened? Lily asked, her voice filled with anxiety.

This was all a bit much for a wrist injury, wasn't it?

I looked down at the gauze covering my right wrist. "I hurt my wrist. It should be fine by tomorrow."

Christine regarded me with a disbelieving stare. "No, not _that_…I mean…with James, what happened?"

"We rowed…how did you two know?"

Christine and Lily exchanged a meaningful look. People were forever giving each other meaningful looks in my presence. Frankly, it was getting old.

"Eva…" Lily began hesitantly. "James is under the impression that you broke up with him."

I stared at her, frozen to the spot. A fire-breathing dragon couldn't have made me move. "_What?_"

"I don't believe it," Christine repeated. "You wouldn't. Not after…_you wouldn't_."

"I- I'm upset with him, but I didn't break up with him," I stammered, practically at a loss for words. What had I said to make him think that I had?

"James came into the common room about a half hour ago," Lily explained solemnly. "I've never seen him look like that before…. His face...When I asked what was wrong he said that he was a tosser and that you'd broken up with him and that he deserved it."

"Where is he?" I asked, feeling slightly frantic. I had to find him. I had to explain…

Christine nodded towards the boys' staircase. "In his dormitory. Christopher and Fred went after him."

Before I pushed open the door to the seventh year boys' dormitory, I stood outside and listened for a moment. I could hear low tones.

Hesitantly, I reached out and twisted the doorknob. The voices stopped talking at once.

"You shouldn't be here."

I let go of the doorknob and turned around to see Al standing just below me on the landing. He looked very solemn and his bright green eyes were stony. He was looking at me as though I'd killed his owl.

"Al, I – " I began, but was cut off when the dormitory door quickly opened and shut and suddenly Christopher and Fred were standing in front of me, blocking the doorway. Christopher cast a silencing charm on the door, apparently to keep James from knowing I was outside.

"Listen, I need to talk to James," I said, trying to keep my voice low and level.

"He doesn't want to talk to you," Fred said. His voice was harsh and so unlike his normal good-humored tones that I was taken aback.

"You don't understand – " I began, trying to explain. I knew this looked bad, but weren't they going to give me the chance to explain?

Fred's expression was hard. "You broke his heart. Tell me - what else is there to understand, Eva? _Bugger off."_

"I didn't break up with him."

All three boys stared at me incredulously. They glanced at each other, then back at me. Uncertainty covered their features. I made to shove past them, but Christopher blocked my way.

"Look," I said, an edge of anger and panic creeping into my voice. "I didn't break up with James and I don't know what I said to make him think that I did. I need to tell him."

"You didn't break up with him?" Fred echoed. "Then why does he think you did?"

"I don't know!" I repeated heatedly. "I was cross with him but I didn't ditch him. I wouldn't."

None of the boys made an effort to move.

I pulled my wand from the waistband of my workout shorts. "Fredrick George Weasley, Albus Severus Potter, Christopher Frank Longbottom - _move or I will hex you_."

They knew just as well as I did that if they wanted to they could have stopped me. After all, there were three of them and one of me and I knew that Al was the best at dueling in the sixth year. But something in the tone of my voice or in my expression must have convinced them and they finally shuffled aside to let me pass.

I turned the doorknob and stepped inside the boys' dormitory. It closed behind me with a soft click. The room looked much as had the first time I had been there, but I didn't care about the socks on the floor or the unmade beds. I was only concerned with James.

He was sitting on the edge of his four-poster bed, his head hanging down, his hands fisted in his hair. James didn't even look up when I came in or stepped towards him. His eyes seemed to be shut tightly so there was every possibility that he didn't realize that it had been me who entered the room and not one of his friends.

"James."

His head jerked up sharply at the sound of my voice. Lily had been right. I had never seen James look like this before. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, and swirling with anger and pain. He'd told me that he was falling in love with me, and then thought I'd broken up with him in the same day. My heart clenched painfully, knowing that I had caused this, even if it hadn't been intentional.

His voice was a bit rough when he spoke. "Eva."

"I didn't break up with you," I told him immediately and as sincerely as I could. "I was embarrassed and in physical pain because of my wrist. Whatever I said… I didn't mean it the way you took it."

His eyes were troubled, as he slowly said, "I told you that I wouldn't spy on you again and you told me that I was right, that it wouldn't happen again. It sounded final… like you were done with me."

"I was angry and embarrassed that you'd invaded my privacy like that," I explained to James. "But I'm not going to break up with you. If you didn't break up with me over saying horrid things to you, what would make you think that I would ditch you over spying on me a few times?"

"You didn't see your face," he smiled ever so slightly. "Cross would be putting it mildly."

"Well, of course I was cross! But mostly I was embarrassed. You…you watched…me and Jonathan…"

Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

James shook his head slowly. "Just the once. The other times I couldn't watch. Made me want to punch Grant in the face. Not that there was that much to see anyway," he added with a cheeky smirk.

"Just don't do it again," I told him, my voice firm but not like my captain's voice. "I don't care if you use the map to find out where I am, but don't use the cloak to spy on me."

James nodded and tentatively reached out a hand and played with a strand of my hair. "I won't. _I promise_. I'm not going to do anything stupid to lose you."

I smiled shyly at him. "Well, good. In spite of your poorly done up ties and horrid taste in pie, I rather like you too. So no more secrets?"

"Just one," he admitted. "It's not really a secret, but I want to tell you anyway."

Well, he had certainly better tell me whatever it was, after everything else today.

"That stupid girls' night Al and I asked you to go to so you could find out about Richard and Lily? Al arranged that ahead of time with Roxanne, Lily, and Rose. Finding out who Lily fancied was just a fringe benefit. The entire point was actually to find out if you fancied me. I mean, they didn't tell me anything specific, but they told me not to give up."

Now why didn't that surprise me? Christine had probably picked up on the plan while I had been bumbling along without a clue. And even though their intentions had been to find out about my feelings for James, we had also learned about Lily and Richard and Rose and Scorpius. It had really been quite the productive evening.

I rolled my eyes even as I laughed. "The meddlesome ways of your family never cease to amaze me. I should be used to it by now, but you lot keep managing to surprise me."

His eyes flickered to my lips and back up to my face. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth hard against mine. I responded equally as fervently, attempting to convey to him through our kisses just how much I cared about him.

"I would have fought for you, you know," he said, his voice low, as he pulled away from my lips and trailed kisses along the side of my neck. His hands held tightly onto my hips as he gently pushed me down so that my head was resting on his pillow.

"Really?" A warm feeling settled in my stomach at his words.

"Really," he answered firmly.

I pushed at his chest slightly, forcing his lips away from my skin. Placing my hands behind his neck, I leaned forward to bring his mouth to mine again, kissing him deeply. Ah, James and his amazing, passionate snogging skills.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" James asked me, his mouth still just lightly brushing against mine.

I quickly pulled away from him and stared up into his eyes, but I couldn't read what I saw there.

"Just to sleep," he clarified with a knowing smirk. "You know - snoring, drooling, stealing the duvet."

I wrinkled my nose. I certainly did not snore _or_ drool in my sleep, thank you very much. Though there was every possibility that I was a cover-stealer. I wouldn't know.

"I do not snore!" I protested. "Christine would have told me."

"But you're probably a duvet stealer. You have that look about you."

"I'm not doing a walk of shame," I replied, my face likely flaming with color. "I mean, it _wouldn't be_, but that's not what people will think. We really don't need anymore rumors going around about us."

"It could take the focus off of Rose and Scorpius."

I rolled my eyes. "Not a good enough reason."

His smirk only grew wider. "You could borrow my cloak in the morning."

My breath hitched in my throat. "You'd let me borrow Harry Potter's invisibility cloak?"

James rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Would you stop calling it that? It's just an invisibility cloak!"

"Yeah, an invisibility cloak that belong to your dad, who's Harry Potter!" I countered cheekily.

"You're ridiculous," he told me, but he said it with a smile.

"All right, then," I agreed.

"You won't stay for me, but you'll stay for an old invisibility cloak," James chuckled, shaking his head. "I reckon I should be insulted."

There was a moment of silence where we just looked at each other. For some reason, I suddenly felt a bit nervous.

"Do you want to borrow something to sleep in?"

My heart started beating a rapid tempo within my chest. Did I want to borrow something to sleep in? Something that belonged to James? I mean, I _was_ still wearing my workout clothes….

I nodded slowly. "I suppose that would be a good idea."

James stood up and moved towards his wardrobe. He rummaged around for a moment, before pulling out an old t-shirt and a pair of athletic shorts.

He held the clothing items out to me. "Sorry they'll be a bit big. But you could probably alter at least the shorts with magic. You can step into the toilet and get changed. I'll change out here."

Once the door was closed and locked behind me, I quickly pulled off the workout shorts and top that I had been wearing. I hadn't had the opportunity to change, having gone straight from my run to the hospital wing, and straight from the hospital wing to see James.

As I unfolded the t-shirt James had given me, I saw that it was his extremely old and worn Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. It was so worn that the faded green fabric was soft, and it smelled of James. For a brief moment, I held it to my nose and inhaled.

"Looks nice on you," James smirked when I emerged from the loo. He was standing next to his bed, wearing one of his many bright orange Chudley Cannon's t-shirts paired with blue plaid pajama trousers. Apparently his Uncle Ron really did keep him well stocked in Cannons merchandise.

"Perhaps I'll forget to give it back," I teased.

James narrowed his eyes. "I want that back. That's one of my most comfortable shirts!"

"We'll see."

James mock scowled at me, but pulled back the duvet on his four-poster bed all the same. As we lay down on our sides, James rested one of his arms across my waist.

"How many Cannon's shirts do you own, anyway?" I asked.

James chuckled softly. "Too many. Can't get Uncle Ron to stop giving them to me even though he knows I support the Harpies."

"You have a really nice pillow," I murmured as I wiggled around a bit in order to get comfortable.

"Extra fluffing and cushioning charm," James replied through a yawn.

"Genius."

"Fred's idea."

"Fred!" I gasped, sitting bolt upright. "Holy hippogriffs! Fred, Al, and Christopher!"

How in the name of Merlin's pants had I forgotten about the three boys outside the door? They'd probably been listening the entire time. I felt like pulling the covers over my face.

"I got rid of them while you were changing," James explained. "I said that we were going to talk for a bit and that I would lend you the cloak to go back."

I closed my eyes and scrunched up my face. "Oh Merlin. How did Fred react?"

James paused as though not quite sure how to answer, then settled on, "With innuendos. Asked if he could borrow one of my ties."

I rolled my eyes. "Cheeky prat. I hope you told him off."

"No worries, I defended your honor," James said, smirking slightly. Then he yawned.

We both lay back down and resumed our former sleeping positions with his arm over my waist and my head against his chest. The warmth of James's body so close to mine, the softness of the bed and pillow, and the emotional stress of the day soon had me sleepy as well. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep curled into James.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Glancing right then left to make certain that no one else was around, I pulled off James's invisibility cloak and tucked it carefully under my arm before gently pushing the door to the seventh year girls' dormitory open. Unlike the Quidditch locker rooms shower, the door didn't squeak, a fact for which I was highly grateful.

Thankfully, Roxanne, Sorcha, and Gemma were still asleep when I returned to the dormitory early the next morning. Christine was sitting up on her bed, against the headboard, reading the Transfiguration textbook. She looked up when I entered the dormitory.

"So…." Christine began quietly. "I'm trying not to make assumptions, but... er…" She gestured at my person.

I had changed back into my own clothes before leaving the boys' dormitory. It had been a bit of a risk, considering the other blokes in the room who didn't know I had slept there, but I hadn't wanted to return to my own dormitory wearing James's clothes. As far as I was concerned, that would have been worse than showing up in my clothes from yesterday.

"Nothing happened!" I hissed quietly. Moving over to her bed, I pulled out my wand and cast a quick _Muffliato _charm.

"Nothing happened." I repeated once we could talk more freely.

"You're lucky the others aren't awake yet. I mean, Roxanne would jump to the wrong conclusion as much as the other two, but can you imagine what would happen if Sorcha thought…?" She trailed off and shuddered slightly.

I ran a hand through my hair. What conclusions Sorcha would have jumped to didn't even bear thinking about.

"Merlin, there'd be pregnancy rumors within a fortnight." She paused and reevaluated that sentence. "No, actually the rumors would be all around the castle by the end of breakfast."

"As if I'd… James shares that room with four other blokes - two of which I'm friends with - why would I - ugh, no. _No_."

Christine smiled and nodded. "I understand."

"And besides…" I started, awkwardly, but then decided that I didn't really want to finish that sentence.

"I know, Eva," Christine told me in her usual comforting voice.

"And speaking of Sorcha," I said. I grabbed my wand from its resting place on my bedside table and removed the silencing charm from Sorcha's bed so that her loud snores filled the room.

Ugh, no going back to bed with that racket going on.

"So I take it everything is okay between you two, then?" Christine asked, gently inserting a bookmark and placing her book on her bedside table.

"Yeah," I answered. "It is." I couldn't tell Christine about the map or cloak, so I settled on, "It was just a misunderstanding. We each jumped to some conclusions but we talked about it and we worked it out."

"I'm glad," Christine replied happily. "You two are so good together."

"Christine?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Did Kieran tell you he was falling in love with you before he said that he loved you? Did you say it?"

Christine shook her head. "No. We felt that we were falling in love but we didn't say it before we said we loved each other. But I definitely felt that I was falling in love before I felt that I was truly in love with him."

"How did you know?"

"That I was falling in love?" Christine smiled softly. "There was just… this continuing increase in my feelings for him as I got to know him and trust him and as we learned to be a couple. I dunno, Eva, it's hard to describe."

I paused and then asked something I'd been wondering. "Do _you_ think I'm falling in love with James?"

Christine paused as she debated what to say, then said, "You don't have to feel rushed into anything, Eva. Just because he said it doesn't mean you have to say it back. It's all right for one person to say it and not the other, you know? I'm sure James would rather you say it when you really feel it. And until then… it's nice, having someone fall in love with you."

"Yesterday afternoon I was so worried about it," I admitted. "And it's not that it's not on my mind or that I'm not worried about when I'll know or when I'll feel ready but…after everything that happened with my wrist and our row and our talk I just… I'm not _as_ worried anymore. I mean, someone as wonderful as James is falling in love with me and that's a good thing, I think."

Christine smiled widely. "It _is _a good thing. Just let yourself enjoy the feeling of having James fall in love with you and don't worry about all the rest."

"How will I know when I feel it or when I'm ready? I mean, I know that's a mad question, but…"

Christine laughed gently. "It's not the same for everyone. Don't worry about if or how or when. Just go on as you are and let yourself be loved. You'll know."

"You always give such good advice," I told Christine. "I wish I could return the favor."

"You listened to me plenty before I was dating Kieran and when we were first dating," she pointed out. "And when I waffle on about my marks and studying for N.E. you always try to calm me down."

I pulled a slight face. "You do need to stop worrying so much about your marks. You're going to do brilliantly. You're not practically top of the class for nothing. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Speaking of which, we need to study Transfiguration after breakfast. And we have that massive essay for Potions."

I groaned loudly land fopped backwards onto my bed and covered my face with my pillow. "I'd rather not."

"The sooner you get showered and dressed the sooner we can go to breakfast, the sooner we can get started on our schoolwork."

In response I groaned again.

"Do you still want to be here when the others wake up and ask why you're sitting there in your clothes from yesterday?"

I threw the pillow off of my face and practically jumped off of the bed. "I'll be ready in less than ten minutes," I told her.

There was no way I was going to face questions from the other three girls, let alone Sorcha. What a nightmare that would be. Holy hippogriffs.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And a special thanks to my beta, **_**blue and gold**_**, for the helpful suggestions and fabulous beta abilities. **

**Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! **

**Next chapter:** The Quidditch Final, Eva meets the Potters, and James meets the Woods.

**AND** I've started a tumblr account for story information and previews. See my author profile page for my username and link.

**AND **some very exciting news – **"Game On" will have a sequel!** The title is "The Name of the Game" and it will follow Eva and James as they start their Quidditch careers.


	29. The Quidditch Final

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_**Chapter 29: The Quidditch Final**_

"_Not in the clamor of the crowded street, _

_Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng,_

_But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat."_

_-Henry Wordsworth Longfellow_

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Good morning," James said, smirking slightly as he settled into the seat next to me at the breakfast table.

"What are you smirking about this early in the morning?" I asked, suddenly feeling a bit suspicious.

"I was right, that's all."

Right about what?

"Right? Since when are you right about anything?"

James leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. "You are a cover stealer."

I felt my mouth drop open. "Am not!"

"I'm just going to talk to Kieran about that Charms work," Christine told us tactfully as she stood up. She shot me a knowing smile before walking towards the Ravenclaw table.

I glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot, then said quietly. "I'll have you know that _you're_ the cover stealer!"

James's face was positively comical. "What?"

"Yeah, I woke up at 3:00 in the bleeding morning _freezing _because _someone_ was hogging the duvet."

"Well," James spluttered, "that's because I woke up at 2:00 and you had the duvet practically to yourself!"

"You mean…we're both cover stealers?" I couldn't help but laugh at this realization.

We were interrupted by the arrival of the owl post. Waffle swooped down low next to me and deposited an envelope in front of my plate. I noticed that James had a letter as well.

I had thought that maybe the letter would be from Tristan, but it was my mum's handwriting on outside of the envelope. I picked it up and carefully opened it.

_Dear Eva,_

_I'm so glad to hear that you talked with Tristan the other day. I know this has been a difficult time and that you took these events particularly hard. Tristan came to dinner and talked with your dad. I can't pretend that I wish none of this had ever happened, but it did and we'll mend. Tristan mentioned that Richard and Gareth still won't talk to him. Do you think you could say something to them? I know its hurting Tristan and it hurts me to see my kids not speaking to each other. _

_We can talk about this more when you come home, but I wanted to keep you informed. Keep studying for NEWTs and do your best. They're called "Nastily Exhausting" for a reason, but make sure you're eating right and getting enough sleep. You know they'll be scouts (and a few Quidditch reporters) at the final match and you want to be in good form. _

_Much love,_

_Mum_

There was a postscript in dad's handwriting.

_P.S. If you even think about signing with the Tornadoes I'll disown you. Anywhere else, I promise, just not there. Keep your elbows tucked in._

"Morning."

I looked up from my letter to see Fred sliding onto the bench across from James and me. I folded my letter carefully and slide it back into its envelope before placing it in my rucksack. Next to me, James did the same.

Fred looked down at his as yet empty plate and then glanced up at me a bit sheepishly. James cleared his throat loudly and shot Fred a stern glare.

"Eva, er, about last night," he began, a bit haltingly. "You know I…I'm sorry. James is my cousin _and_ my best mate. I was just trying to look out for him, you know?"

I nodded. I did know. I would have done the same if I had been in the same situation with Christine and Kieran. I probably wouldn't have been as nice about it either.

"It's all right, Fred," I told him truthfully. "You were just being a good friend to James."

"From now on, Eva Louise," Fred told me with grin, "I trust you not to break his heart."

"Thank you," I told him as I spooned some more yogurt onto my plate.

Fred turned his gaze on James, his brown eyes twinkling. "And I think it's safe to say you won't break hers. Seeing as you're madly in love with her and all that."

James threw a link of sausage at Fred, which hit him on the end of his nose. "None of your business, you nosy parker."

Fred twitched his nose. "That was a waste of a perfectly decent sausage. Oh, by the way, thanks for the loan of the tie. Looked really nice on the doorknob."

This time I was the one who threw a piece of my breakfast at Fred.

"Oh, come on!" he protested as the piece of banana bounced off of his forehead. "You think I would miss an opportunity to tease you about the fact that you two were in the dormitory for a long time, all by yourselves? I can't pass that up!"

"_Try_," I told him with gritted teeth.

Christopher appeared next to Fred, wearing a slightly disgruntled look. "I thought you were going to wait for me?" he asked Fred as he surveyed the morning's selection of breakfast foods.

Fred's face colored slightly. "I saw Susannah leaving the common room with her friends so I followed behind them."

"Susannah Peters?" I asked incredulously. "Are you seriously still harassing that girl?"

Fred's face grew even brighter. "It's not harassing!" he cried in defense. "She's just easy to rile up and it's a laugh."

"Now where have I heard that before?" James pretended to ponder, his tone sarcastic.

"It does seem familiar," Christopher grinned. "Do her eyes blaze too?"

Fred made a harrumphing noise and took an exceptionally large bite out of a muffin.

Wait…_what?_

"'Do her eyes blaze?' What in the name of Merlin's pants are you waffling on about?" I questioned the three boys.

At this, Fred nearly choked on his mouthful of muffin. "Ee hazen toll ou?"

"Stuff it," James warned, pointing his fork at Fred in a threatening manner.

"English please?" I turned to Christopher for an explanation.

Christopher laughed. "What Fred is trying to ask is, 'he hasn't told you?'"

Was that supposed to mean something to me? I certainly hoped not. He might have well have been speaking Mermish.

Fred finally swallowed his food and said, "James. James hasn't told you."

"_Shut up_, Fred," James warned through slightly gritted teeth.

I shifted in my seat to look at James and fixed him with an inquisitive stare. "Told me what? I thought weren't supposed to have secrets?"

James's ears were pink as he found himself caught. "When you're angry your eyes blaze and look even brighter than usual."

Again… _what?_

"What he means to say is that _he likes it_ when your eyes blaze," Fred interjected in a teasingly helpful tone. "He used to pick rows with you just to see it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? You picked fights with me on purpose? To see my eyes blaze?"

"Er…yeah." James's ears now resembled a flaming sunset. "Obviously not until last year, but…yeah."

Did he mean to say that some of those times when he was wearing his I want to row with you expression that it had been because he wanted to see my eyes blaze (whatever the bleeding hell that meant)? He had purposefully instigated rows? What kind of strange bloke logic was _that_?!

"You're incorrigible."

"You have nice, blazing eyes. Rather _amazing_," he told me with a smirk.

"Is that a reference to last night?" Fred asked in a not-so-innocent voice.

In response, James flung a forkful of eggs in Fred's direction.

"Oi, watch it," Fred cried. "Or I'll tell Eva that Christopher helped you with your tie again this morning."

Christopher and I burst out laughing. James was not amused, and flung another forkful of eggs at Fred.

"By the way Eva," Christopher said, turning me. "Sorry about last night. I was just trying to protect James and be a good friend."

"I know," I told him. "I wouldn't expect any less from you."

"I'm glad you guys talked it out and that you're okay."

"Me too," I smiled.

"Yeah, _talked_," Fred said sarcastically.

"Fred?" I asked, "You I've punched someone in the face, yeah?"

"All right, all right!" Fred threw up his hands. "I'm done taking the mickey. Promise."

"Good," I nodded firmly.

"For now."

"_Nothing happened_!" I cried in exasperation.

"That's what makes it so easy to tease you," Fred grinned widely. "You act so guilty."

"Lay off, Fred," James said in a warning tone that booked no argument. "It's not funny anymore. Stop making Eva uncomfortable."

Um, it was never funny, thanks.

"Fine," Fred sighed dramatically.

I continued to give Fred a stern glare.

"I promise," he told me. There was a slight pause, then he said, "Sorry."

"I feel like this is usually the part where someone throws food at Fred," Christopher mused.

"I'd rather you –" Fred began, but was cut off as he was hit in the face by another piece of banana.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"All right, everyone," I told the members of the Quidditch team, "there's only one week until our match against Ravenclaw. So first things first, I don't want any of you going anywhere alone. It'd be best if you could make sure you're always part of a group. We don't need any more accidents or injuries."

"I can't believe Rinaldi is setting her friends on you," Nico seethed. "It's so unsportsmanlike!"

"You mean sport_woman _like," Zara corrected him.

"We stand in her way of the Cup," I reminded Nico. "She's incredibly result oriented. Means don't necessarily matter to Lyra Rinaldi."

"Wish we could prove it was her," Zara muttered angrily, folding her arms across her chest. "I'd like to take a leaf out of your book and punch her in the face."

I couldn't blame Zara for feeling that way, not when I felt like taking another swing at Lyra Rinaldi, and especially Chelsea Barnett for using that tripping jinx on me. What a cow. But as much as I might have wanted to retaliate, I couldn't.

"We don't need anyone being assigned detention right before the match," I warned them. "We need everyone to be there –and all in one piece – on Saturday."

"I wish we had another chance to beat Slytherin," James spoke up, his voice a bit heavy.

I knew exactly how James was feeling. I felt just the same. Since the moment we had lost to Slytherin back in that first match, I had regretted that I would never get another chance to play against Rinaldi and beat her Slytherin team.

"I know," I replied and around me the other team members nodded. "I know. But that's the way Quidditch works. One chance."

"Unfortunate," Nico intoned and Bree nodded.

"The best we can do is to make sure Slytherin doesn't win the Cup," Lily said firmly.

"Exactly right. Now, strategy," I said in order to refocus the team. "I know we've been over this before, but we can't talk about it enough. We can expect Ravenclaw to be brill at strategy, as usual. Jones, Davies, and Chang have played together for two years now and work well together. They're good at anticipating each other's moves, so watch them carefully, everyone."

"Davies favors the center hoop," Richard replied. "And Chang needs to work on forceful passing."

"I'm glad you noticed that. Also watch Jones because he's left-handed. Chang can seem like the weakest link, but don't underestimate him. You saw how he played against the Slytherins."

Richard nodded firmly. "Can I look over your notes on the Chasers again?" he asked.

"Of course." I tried not to smile at my brother's dedication to the team. He'd been raised right, that boy. "I'll be in the common room after dinner."

"Chasers - Madeline Harper, their Keeper, throws from her wrist instead of her shoulder," I said, remembering James's words about her abilities. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw James's mouth quirk into a knowing smirk.

"So look for opportunities to use her weaker throw to our advantage. But aside from her throwing problems, she's an excellent Keeper; very talented. She's good at sensing when Chasers are feinting. We'll work on that today out on the pitch."

"Nico and Zara," I continued, "Watson is new to the team this year, and he's talented. But from what I've seen, he and Higgins don't always get along well. They both seem as though they're trying to outplay the other, so that could work to your advantage, but don't count on it. I'm sure Harper has addressed that after the last match."

"We can take them," Nico boasted proudly. "We know how to work together. Zara and I make an ace team."

Zara smiled widely. "Sure do, Little Chap."

Nico scowled at her. "I've grown a whole fourth of an inch this year!" he protested vigorously. Behind him, James snorted loudly into his Quidditch gloves. Nico turned around to give him a fierce scowl that did nothing to stop James's muffled laughter.

Zara patted Nico on the head. "You do realize that you could end up being over six feet and I'll still call you Little Chap, yeah?"

"You're cute the way you are, Nico," Bree told him kindly. Nico looked incredibly pleased by her words.

"Well, let's just keep up the teamwork, and keep working on your backbeats," I told my Beaters, returning the discussion to the topic of Quidditch.

"Now, James, you have leagues more talent than Greenfield, but keep an eye on him. He did spot the Snitch before Malfoy, even though he threw himself off balance and gave up the catch. I want you to make certain that he doesn't see it before you, but if he does, distract him. Nico, and Zara, I'm counting on you to help with this. Ravenclaw currently has five hundred points and we have five hundred and eighty. Slytherin has played all of their matches, and they have an even thousand. If we're going to win the Cup, we're going to need four hundred and thirty points. James, you know what that means."

James nodded firmly. "I can't catch the snitch until we have at least two hundred and eighty points."

"I know it's a lot, but I have complete faith in us," I told them in my best captain voice. "We're the most hardworking team at this school, we're in the best physical shape, and we have the most talented players."

"And we have the most heart," Lily spoke up. "We all love Quidditch. We're all dedicated to being the best players that we can. That sets us apart."

Well, darn if Lily Potter wasn't simply fabulous. I knew that I made a good choice selecting her for the team all those months ago. She had proved herself a capable and dedicated player time and time again.

"Well said!" Nico cheered as Bree clapped enthusiastically. James was regarding Lily with an immensely proud look that made my stomach flutter. James had once said that Lily reminded him of his mum. I wondered if that's what he was thinking about now.

"You know what else sets us apart?" Zara said, "We're friends. I mean, look at the Ravenclaws trying to outplay each other and the Slytherins starting fights in the middle of the pitch. At the end of the day, we play for Gryffindor pride."

I was certain that I was beaming as I looked around the locker rooms at everyone.

Best Quidditch team ever.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"That's it," I said, thoroughly disgusted, throwing down my quill. "I'm going to teach myself to be ambidextrous."

Three pairs of eyes rose to look at me with concern. Christine and Kieran were frowning, but James look positively alarmed.

"Is your wrist still hurting you?" he asked, panic lacing his voice.

"Just a slight twinge," I tried to assure him. Even as I said it, I couldn't lie to myself – the slight pain that had lingered in my right wrist had me a bit worried.

"Perhaps you've been pushing yourself too hard at practice," Christine suggested a bit hesitantly.

I wrinkled up my nose. "No such thing."

"Yes, there is, Eva, and you know it," Kieran told me in a determined tone.

"We shouldn't practice tomorrow," James said firmly. "Let everyone have a day to rest before the match on Saturday."

Did I just hear the words _not practice _come out of James Potter's mouth? What kind of bleeding awful suggestion was that?

"Are you taking the mickey?" I demanded, peering into his face, hoping to find a teasing smirk there. My hope was sadly futile.

"Absolutely not."

"But I've booked the pitch!" I cried, feeling scandalized by James's suggestion. "The Ravenclaws can't have our time on the pitch!"

Kieran raised his eyebrows slightly.

"No offense, Kieran," I told him. "But we have to win."

He smiled easily and straightened his blue and bronze Ravenclaw tie. "Agree to disagree on that topic."

"We can stretch out or do some other mild strength training," I told James. "And we can talk strategy, but we have to be occupying that pitch. Abandoning our time slot is _not_ an option, James."

"I don't want you to overextend yourself and get hurt," James told me. He reached over and took my wrist in his warm hands. He gently began massaging the muscles and stretching my wrist slightly. I nearly sighed in contentment. It _did_ make my wrist feel better.

"I won't," I promised James.

We had all just returned to studying for our N.E. when Nico and Bree rushed up to our table.

"One of Rinaldi's friends just tired to push Zara down a flight of stairs," Nico spat angrily.

I was on my feet in an instant. Beside me, James did the same. "Where is she now?"

"She's talking to Professor Longbottom and Professor McGonagall," Bree answered. I happily noted that neither Bree or Nico sounded too out of breath. It look liked all of those extra laps were having the desired effect.

"Don't worry, we asked Professor Longbottom to escort her back to the Tower," Nico told me firmly. "We've been doing like you asked and going everywhere in pairs."

"Bloody Slytherins," I groaned. "Bloody _Rinaldi_," I amended, remembering that neither Scorpius nor any of the other Slytherins had tried to trip anyone or push anyone down a flight of stairs.

We couldn't let her dirty tactics impair our team. Gryffindor had to win the match. We just had to.

No.

This wasn't about winning. That was never what Quidditch had been about for me. I couldn't let one vindictive person make me forget that. Quidditch was about playing the full extent of my abilities. No matter what Rinaldi – or anyone for that matter – did, nothing would change that for me.

The Gryffindor team and I would work to be the best that we could be, and that was all anyone could ask of us. James had said it well – we win or lose as a team.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

_Dear Eva,_

_We are so proud of you and everything you've achieved this year. As always, play your best and play for the sheer enjoyment of it. We'll be in the stands cheering on our favorite Chaser and Keeper._

_All our love,_

_Mum and Dad_

_P.S. Keep your elbows tucked in!_

The morning of the match dawned grey, gloomy, and overcast. There was the unmistakable smell of rain in the air. I glanced up at the ceiling of the Great Hall and frowned. I could imagine more ideal conditions for my final Quidditch match at Hogwarts.

"Relax," Lily assured me from her place on the bench next to me. "You had us practicing in far worse than this. We were out there on the pitch in torrential rain. Even if it does rain during the match, it probably won't be that bad. And besides, this way, we won't have to deal with the sun in our eyes."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Richard smiling slightly at Lily with a look of pure admiration. For some reason, the sight calmed me.

I nodded. What Lily was saying was true. It was. I just worried about James's visibility in the rain. The Snitch was difficult to spot in the best of conditions, but in the rain…

"I know," I replied with a small, hopefully reassuring smile. "Thanks."

"I'm a Seeker," James reminded me. "I have this in hand."

I squeezed his hand for reassurance. "You'll catch the Snitch. You're the best in the school."

"I thought you were opposed to inflating my ego?"

"This is a match day. It's different," I told him loftily.

His mouth twitched as he tried not to smirk.

"Oh, just go ahead and smirk. I know you want to," I told him with a slight eye roll. Turning my attention to the rest of my team, I looked around to make certain that everyone was eating.

"C'mon, eat something," Nico was telling Bree. He waved a fork loaded with scrambled eggs in her face.

She leaned away and wrinkled her nose. "Get those away from me. I hate eggs and I already feel as though I'm going to be sick."

"You need to eat something," I reminded her somewhat sternly. I wasn't letting one of my team members go out on to that pitch on an empty stomach and without enough energy.

"Says the girl who's barely touched her fruit," Lily muttered with a slight smile.

"And you've barely touched _your_ plate," I countered. "Everyone eat something. We have ten minutes."

Ten minutes until we went down to the pitch locker rooms. Holy hippogriffs – how had the time gone by so quickly?!

Twenty-five minutes later, I stood in front of my team in the locker rooms. Once everyone had put on their kit their nerves had seemed to fade away. On every single one of their faces was a grim determination that I was sure was reflected on my own.

This was the last time I would stand before the Gryffindor team as their captain. Last night, I had planned a few words to say before the match that would inspire the team. Now that I was standing here before them, I didn't want to say the words I had originally intended. They suddenly seemed trite, and I grasped around in my mind for something else to say.

"Okay team…" I began, using my very best authoritative captain voice. "This is it. This is the last time we'll all play together on this pitch as the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. All of you have worked so hard this year. We started out good and we've only improved as term has gone on. I'm proud to have been your captain. So let's go out there, and play for Gryffindor. Let's play for us. Let's play the match we know we're capable of playing so that no matter what happens – win or lose – we can look back on this match and be proud of what we've accomplished."

"We'll get it done for you captain," Nico said firmly.

"It's not about me," I told him. "We're a team. This is about _all_ of us and about all of us playing our best."

"Let's go play for Gryffindor," Lily chimed in, her eyes blazing with zeal and determination.

"Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor, Gryffindor!" the team chanted, raising their fists in the air.

It was a beautiful sight, a Quidditch team full of resolve prepared to take on and conquer whatever came their way.

"Let's go play Gryffindor Quidditch!" I roared, energy coursing through me.

As I tightened the straps of my wrist guards, James approached me.

"I've never been more attracted to you than I am right now," he told me in a low voice.

Richard, who was standing nearby, flushed a brilliant shade of red and hastily moved away. I couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"So you think I did all right?" I asked, biting my lip. After all, I had completed winged that speech.

James smiled at me, and reached out to play with the end of my ponytail. "You were magnificent. Perhaps the scouts will be able to overlook your inability to keep your elbows in and offer you a tryout anyway."

"You're such a prat," I laughed as I leaned forward to kiss him. "Perhaps the scouts will overlook your overly large ego and decide that you're worth taking a chance on."

"Stop your teasing-fighting-flirting thing and get over here," Zara commanded us with a slight smile.

Oh, right. So much for not letting my relationship with James affect the team.

"You're a rotten distraction," I informed him, pointing my finger warningly in his face.

In response, he merely winked at me. "Aren't I, though?"

"Save it for later," Richard grumbled, clearly annoyed and embarrassed.

"Here are the RAVENCLAWS!" shouted the announcer. "Harper, Greenfield, Jones, Davies, Chang, Higgins, and Watson!"

The Ravenclaw team flew onto the pitch in a flurry of blue and bronze robes. In the stands, their supporters waved pennants and cheered wildly.

"Game on," I whispered to myself as we mounted our brooms and soared out into the cool, grey morning. We were met with raucous cheers from the Gryffindor stands, as well as some supporters from Hufflepuff.

"Now for GRYFFINDOR! Wood, Potter, Martin, Thomas, Phelps, Wood, and Potter!"

As we made our customary lap around the pitch, the announcer continued his commentary. "Both teams enter the match today very strong. Wood of Gryffindor and Harper of Ravenclaw have worked exceptionally hard with their teams this year. This promises to be an excellent, hard fought match today, ladies and gentlemen!"

The crowd was extra loud and rambunctious today. The overcast and slightly gloomy weather hadn't dimmed the students' enthusiasm for Quidditch. Students were on their feet, waving widely and holding banners and pennants.

I knew that there were scouts in the crowd, but I didn't allow myself to let my eyes seek them out. That would only serve to make me nervous. Instead, I looked for Christine as we flew by the Ravenclaw stands, but I didn't see her. Normally she stood out a bit with her scarlet and gold Gryffindor scarf. But when we flew by the Gryffindor stands, there she was, her binoculars hanging around her neck and standing next to Roxanne, Sorcha, and Gemma. All four of them were cheering loudly and were helping to hold up a large, brightly colored red and gold banner that proclaimed, "Chuck that Quaffle Here, Eva!"

I felt a grin splitting my face and I waved happily at them. The nigh before, I had been humming the Puddlemere United song "Beat Back Those Bludgers Boys and Chuck That Quaffle Here." They knew how much I wanted to play for Puddlemere, and they were here supporting me, even Gemma. _That_ was certainly a surprise. Perhaps I had really gotten through to her. Or perhaps someone had cast a cheering charm on her.

Standing in the front row of the Gryffindor stands were Fred, Al, Hugo and Gareth along with some of Richard, Gareth, and Hugo's friends. All of the boys were sporting scarlet and gold face paint and waving pennants that featured magically animated roaring lions. Fred and Al were each helping to hold up a large hand made sign that read, "Lions for the Cup!"

And was that….? It was! Standing behind the group of boys next to Rose was Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius was in the Gryffindor stands. Merlin, if he wasn't careful, he'd be next on Rinaldi's hit list.

Taking up our formation, I cleared my mind and glanced at each of the Ravenclaw team members. They all looked as determined as the Gryffindor team. The announcer was right; this would be a hard fought match.

"I want a clean match and fair play," Madam Hooch informed us in the strictest of voices. Her whistle sounded and she tossed the Quaffle high into the air.

Angling my broom forward, I quickly shot up and snatched the red Quaffle out of the air. Immediately, the Ravenclaw Chasers were on all sides of me, putting pressure on me to make a hasty pass or drop the Quaffle. Ha, bloody unlikely.

With sharp jerk, I allowed my broom to drop in altitude, which confused the Ravenclaw Chasers. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bree right where she was supposed to be, and tossed the Quaffle slightly behind me. Bree secured the red ball under her arm and, putting on a burst of speed, flew towards the opposite goalpost.

Lily and I followed her up the pitch, flanked by the Ravenclaw Chasers, who were intent on not letting us keep control of the Quaffle. I made eye contact with Lily and nodded once. She nodded in return, understanding what I had been communicating to her.

"Martin misses, Hufflepuff Keeper Harper throws the Quaffle back into play," the commentator narrated.

Harper threw the Quaffle to Jones, who grabbed it deftly in his sure hands. Lily, Bree, and I took our places in our formation. Bree and I worked to block the other two Chasers, while Lily flew close, attempting to knock the Quaffle out of Jones's hands.

Jones glanced quickly to either side of him and saw that his fellow Chasers were occupied. Pulling up on his broom, he changed course and flew so that he was behind us. It was a clever move, and one for which we hadn't been prepared. Jones easily tossed the Quaffle to Davies, who sped off down the pitch.

"Wood blocks Davies' attempt! The match remains tied at zero."

As Chang and I were both reaching for the Quaffle thrown by Richard, a Bludger came whizzing towards us. I glanced at the Quaffle, then at Chang, and made my decision and performed a barrel roll. Chang shot me a look of panic, then leaned into a barrel roll as well.

From below me, Lily swooped in and snatched up the Quaffle just before Davies could do the same. One of the Ravenclaw Beaters, Watson, sent the Bludger back towards Lily, but suddenly Zara was there hitting it away with an easy grin. Still, the damage was done. Lily had dropped the Quaffle and Jones had scooped it up.

"Jones, Davies, Jones, Chang….Chang scores! Ten points to Ravenclaw!" shouted the announcer. The Ravenclaw stands erupted in excited cheers, and I swore under my breath. Scoring first was a huge morale boost to a team and their supporters.

Lily managed to grab the Quaffle as it was thrown back into play. She passed the Quaffle to me, I passed it back to her, Lily passed it to Bree, Bree passed it to me. We rapidly passed the Quaffle back and forth between us, seeking to confuse the Ravenclaws and keep them guessing about our plans. With a sharp nod, I signaled to the other two girls that that it was time to get into position for our modified Hawkshead Attacking Formation.

Moving forward in a tight and controlled V formation after crossing the half field line, the other plays quickly flew out of our way as we barreled down the pitch.

"Wood scores and Gryffindor is on the board! They're tied at ten points!'

Roars of approval echoed from the Gryffindor stands. "Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!"

Twenty minutes, later Gryffindor was leading, but only by twenty points and the score stood at 50-30. Meanwhile, the sky had continued to darken and I knew it wouldn't be long before we'd be playing this match in the rain. Naturally, that was the exact moment rain began falling from the sky.

Lily had been right – the Gryffindor team had endured much worse during practices than what we were experiencing today. The wind was minimal and the rain was falling straight down instead of at an angle. If we had to have rain, this was the best kind to have. Still, I was glad that my team had plenty of experience to reply upon since rain of any sort impaired vision.

The Quaffle was sailing towards me, thrown by Richard after a failed Ravenclaw goal attempt, when Davies came seemingly out of nowhere. As we both lunged for the Quaffle, his elbow made contact with my nose and I let out a gasp of pain.

"Ouch!" the announcer said, "Looks like Wood's just taken an elbow to the face. No penalty though, because it doesn't seem to have been on purpose."

I ignored the sharp pain in my nose and instead focused on somehow regaining possession of the Quaffle. Davies had gotten a hold of it when I had brought my hand up to gingerly touch my nose. I could taste the blood from my nose as it slowly trickled down towards my lips, but at least the rain seemed to be washing most of it away. That was something, anyway.

"Potter takes a Bludger to the leg! Doesn't look too bad; it just grazed him. He'll have a decent bruise, but good thing Potter's got quick reflexes! And there's Thomas and Phelps with perfect backbeats – Wood has certainly been working hard on their training this season. Great teamwork, there."

At the commentator's words, my heart swelled a bit, but I kept my focus on Davies and the Quaffle. If James had merely been grazed by the Quaffle, then he was fine. I couldn't allow myself to be distracted by a very minor injury.

The match seemed to wear on and on with no end in sight. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were very evenly match teams, especially in terms of our Chasers and Beaters. Where I hoped that we'd have the edge was in James. It didn't matter that Scorpius had beaten James in that first match. As far as I was concerned James was the best in the school. He could make all the difference.

Stealing a glance through the rain, I saw that the scoreboard read Gryffindor 200, Ravenclaw 170. We still needed eighty points before James could catch the Snitch. In the mean time, he, Nico, and Zara had to keep Greenfield from catching it first and ending the match. If Greenfield caught the Snitch at this point, Ravenclaw would win the match and take second in the House Cup. Slytherin would take first, while Gryffindor would end in third or fourth place.

The rain had made the Quaffle slippery, which was causing problems for the Chasers. Even with our gloves, we still relied heavily on the firm grip of our fingertips. As I was trying to catch a pass from Bree, my fingers slipped and suddenly I was grasping for the ball. In a moment of confusion (and stupidity) I made a hard and desperate swipe to regain the Quaffle, but instead brought my hand down hard, fingertips first onto the handle of Chang's broom.

That alone wouldn't have been terrible, but a few moments later, an angled yet forceful pass from Lily had me grasping for the Quaffle with poor hand positioning. I winced as I felt two of the fingers of my right hand dislocate. I firmly reminded myself to push past the pain. I'd played with dislocated fingers loads of times before. I'd even played with a broken arm; it could have been worse. I could do this. _I could_.

"It seems like Wood has taken another injury – something with her hand, looks like."

I felt like hitting that Hufflepuff commentator upside the head with one of the Beater's bats. I knew he was just doing his job and reporting on the events of the match, but I didn't particularly want the other team knowing that my hand was injured.

"All right, Eva?" Lily called over to me, worry evident in her voice.

"All right!" I called back, trying to sound upbeat. I didn't want anyone worrying about me. The team needed to focus on the match, not my injury.

Still, as if the rain hadn't made trying to catch the Quaffle hard enough, now I had to catch it with dislocated fingers. I could have taken the stabbing pain in my hand, but the rain made the situation ten times worse.

I managed to snag the Quaffle that Bree passed me, but I immediately passed it on to Lily because of the throbbing in my right hand. Ouch, ouch, _ouch_. Even worse….it had been a clumsy pass, and I knew it. And unfortunately, so did the Ravenclaw Chasers.

"THE SNITCH HAS BEEN SPOTTED!"

My heart sank as I saw James and Greenfield fall into a steep dive. The roar of the crowd intensified as suddenly all eyes were fixed on the figures speeding towards the ground.

_No, no, no._ The match couldn't end yet. My heart seemed to be beating irregularly. Come on, James…_come on!_

"FOR GRYFFINDOR!" came a mighty bellow from Nico and suddenly a Bludger came hurtling from the right, knocking Greenfield off course. As Greenfield swerved out of the way, he nearly flew into James, who was also knocked off course. But that didn't matter, because Nico had helped save the day and kept the match from ending just yet. I wondered if James had seen the Snitch before this, but had been biding his time as we had discussed.

Nico shared a triumphant high-five with Zara as the Ravenclaw crowd let out a collective sigh of disappointment and the Gryffindor crow let out a collective cheer. I felt flooded with relief. The match wasn't over and we certainly weren't done fighting.

But as the match continued to progress, things were not looking up for Gryffindor. Zara had taken a Bludger to her left arm (thankfully not her dominant bat arm), Lily had also dislocated at least one of her fingers, and Ravenclaw had managed to come from behind and take the lead by thirty points. But the Ravenclaws were also a bit worse for wear. Harper and Chang had both been hit by Bludgers, Harper definitely had bruised ribs, Davies had injured his shoulder, and Zara had purposefully elbowed Higgins in the face which had resulted in a foul for Ravenclaw.

Signaling to Lily and Bree, I motioned to get into formation. With our hand injuries (and my former wrist injury), Lily and I weren't passing quite as we should have been able to and it showed. I wanted to slap myself for allowing a couple of dislocated fingers from hindering my ability to play the game to my full ability. I knew that I had to do better to ignore the pain and put everything I had into playing my very best. That's what I had told my team before the match - _Let's play the match we know we're capable of playing so that no matter what happens – win or lose – we can look back on this match and be proud of what we've accomplished. _

"Injuries on both sides are having an effect on several of the players out there, particularly Lily Potter and Captain Eva Wood of Gryffindor and Harper and Chang of Ravenclaw. This is certainly a close match!"

I was capable of more than what I was currently accomplishing. Despite the aching and throbbing of my fingers, and the still sharp pain in my nose, I could do better. I had to; there was simply no other choice. The next time the Quaffle was passed in my direction, I caught it deftly, ignoring the pain, and tucked it securely under my arm elbows firmly tucked in. I hoped that somewhere in the stands my dad was watching and that he approved of my firmly and neatly tucked elbows.

After scoring twice, I felt that there was a new energy on the pitch. The Gryffindor crowd was cheering with renewed vigor. I heard voices screaming my name and urging me on, telling me to "chuck that Quaffle here."

"Wood is sure fighting past that hand injury," said the commentator, "Look at that technique!"

I couldn't help but grin widely. _Look at that technique._ Spot on, Hufflepuff bloke.

James went into a Wronksi Feint that fooled Greenfield into thinking that the Snitch had been spotted. There was a gasp from the crowd as Greenfield crashed into the ground just as James sharply pulled up his broom and leveled out in the nick of time. Greenfield slowly picked himself up off the ground and shook his head. Climbing back on his broom, he rejoined the match, though he didn't look terribly coordinated out there.

The rain continued to fall, and the match went on. It was hard to tell just how long we'd been out here; it seemed like ages. We were finally getting closer to two hundred and eighty, but both teams were staying within twenty points of each other. Richard was doing a fantastic job in front of the goalposts, keeping out far more than he was letting in.

"POTTER HAS SEEN THE SNITCH!"

Gryffindor 280, Ravenclaw 270 read the scoreboard. I felt as though all of the breath had escaped my body. In a mere matter of moments the match could be over…

Everyone stopped and watched as James dove for the Snitch. Greenfield was keeping close on James's tail. My stomach clenched in anxious anticipation and I clutched onto the Quaffle for dear life.

Through the rain, I could see James stretch out a hand in front of him and make a grabbing motion, and then he was recoiling as a Bludger slammed into his right arm. He pulled his arm in tight to his body and continued in pursuit of the Snitch, now steering his broom with only his left hand. James was getting closer and closer to the ground….any second now…. He lifted his left hand so that he was steering and hanging on with only his knees and then –

"JAMES!" I yelled as I watched my boyfriend plunge forward and go flying head over heels over the handle of his broomstick and fall the remaining fifteen feet to the ground. As he hit the pitch he did his best to tuck into a roll, but his injured right arm hindered him and he ended up in a heap on the wet grass of the pitch.

The crowd was deathly silent. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest with worry, but I kept my firm grip on the Quaffle, ready to continue play. Then, very slowly and very carefully, James picked himself up off the ground and raised his left hand high, straight over his head. There was pain in his expression, but also triumph. The tiny Golden Snitch was struggling against his fist.

"He's done it! James Potter's done it! GRYFFINDOR WINS!' shouted the announcer. "I can't believe what I just saw – ladies and gentleman, that was a match for the record books! Nearly a four and a half hour match with the score incredibly close the entire time. But Gryffindor wins the match and – yes, by a margin of only _ten points_ - Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup!"

The stands exploded as hundreds of Gryffindor students and many of the Hufflepuffs burst into a nearly deafening roar of wild cheers and shouts. Quickly, students began emptying the stands and rushing out on to the pitch to congratulate the team.

I quickly landed my broom and looked for James, but the crowd and the rain had obscured him from sight. I hoped he was all right. Between what I felt certain was a broken arm and that fifteen foot fall, he was in desperate need of a trip to the hospital wing.

Nico was the first to reach me, practically slamming into me with a hug. For all that he was a little chap, he nearly knocked me off my feet and onto the soggy grass of the pitch.

"Told you we'd do it, Captain," he yelled as he hugged me. Then suddenly Bree, Zara, Lily, and Richard were all right there as well, jumping up and down and screaming excitedly.

"I can't believe it – _we actually did it_!" Bree cried, tears of happiness collecting in the corners of her brown eyes.

"You best start believing it!" Lily cheered, jumping and wildly punching the air with her fist. "Because we won!"

"Brilliant beating, Little Chap," Zara hugged Nico affectionately.

And then James was standing in front of me. His robes were absolutely soaked and his hair was plastered to his head. Wordlessly, he held up the Golden Snitch that was still struggling in his left hand. He looked liked he'd been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs but his tired mouth curved into a wide grin and my heart skipped a beat. Or two.

I moved to close the distance between us and was about to throw my arms around him when I stopped myself short.

"You're hurt," I said. "Your arm."

In response, he pulled me in close to him and held me tight as he lifted me off the ground and happily spun us in a circle. Careful of my fingers, I wound my arms around his neck to help him since he was only holding onto me with one arm.

"James, oh Merlin, we won the Cup!" I shouted over the nearly overwhelming cheering still emanating from the stands and the students on the pitch.

"You were bloody brilliant!" he cried excitedly. "_We were all brilliant_! Godric, that was a match I'll never forget."

I pulled away slightly so that I could look James in the eyes, but my arms remained firmly clasped around his neck.

His warm, brown eyes regarded me tenderly, yet with a bright light I had never seen before. Even though my robes were drenched and I was freezing, I suddenly felt pleasantly warm right down in the pit of my stomach. It was like I had taken a long swallow of butterbeer.

He stowed the Snitch in the pocket of his robes, then took my face in his calloused hands and brought his mouth down to meet mine. I let my hands run through his wet hair, even as I sought to pull him closer. His lips moved firmly against mine as we ignored the rain, our teammates, the crowd, the pain we were in, everything. In this moment, it was just us.

"C'mon you two!" Nico interrupted us, appearing out of the rain.

"You have awful timing, Little Chap," James groaned as he pulled away.

They're bringing out the Cup," Nico reasoned. "We can't have the winning captain miss that!"

There was no way in hell I was missing holding the Quidditch Cup as captain of the Gryffindor team. I had waited my entire Hogwarts career for this moment.

"We'd better get over there, Captain," James grinned. I grinned right back at him.

Sometimes, I had secretly wondered if this moment – if it ever came – would be able to live up to the expectations that I had built up in my head over the years. But I needn't have worried, because raising the gleaming, golden Quidditch Cup above my head while the crowd cheered for Gryffindor was even better than my imagination.

The crowd was still chanting and cheering madly, and people were taking photographs of the scene. Everyone on the Gryffindor team got a chance to hold the Quidditch Cup and raise it triumphantly.

"Eva! Richard!"

"Dad!" I called out happily.

When he reached me, my dad scooped me up into a fierce hug. "I'm so proud of you," he told me. I could hear his pride in his voice and it made me just as happy as holding the Quidditch Cup.

Releasing me, he pulled back and looked into my face. "Wonderful job of keeping your elbows in, Eva."

"Eva, oh darling," Mum was suddenly there, fusing over my injuries. "You had me so worried with that bloody nose. Here." She took out her wand and used _tergeo_ to remove the dried blood from my face. Ah, much better.

Mum turned her attention to Richard now that he was done shaking hands with Dad. "Richard, no injuries?"

He shook his head and wrinkled his nose in slight distaste at her motherly ministrations.

"Brilliant playing, Captain."

I turned around to see Tristan standing behind me with his hands shoved uneasily in his trouser pockets. Elena stood next to him, clutching his arm. What in the name of Merlin's pants was she doing here?

"Tristan," I said awkwardly. "You came."

"'Course I did. I wasn't going to miss your final Hogwarts match."

"Your little team played so well, Eva," Elena told me in her usual too polite voice. "I'm quite impressed. There were Tornado's scouts in the stands today, you know. I'd be very surprised if you don't receive an offer from them to try out for their reserves."

"Er, thanks," I said in a rather dismissive tone. If I did receive an offer from the Tornados, I was chucking it straight in the bin. Or perhaps the fire in the common room.

"Just think about what I said that time we met for lunch," Tristan said.

I was about to reply when from out of nowhere, Fred nearly rugby tackled me. "EVA LOUISE, you brilliant Quidditch player, you!"

Apparently Fred's face paint was enchanted to be water resistant, because the rain hadn't streaked it at all. The diagonal red and gold stripes were still drawn plainly across his face. Christopher was close behind, sporting a Gryffindor red t-shirt and gold face paint. Someone (probably Fred) had put some paint in his hair.

"Louise?" I heard Mum ask Richard. She sounded extremely confused, as well she might, considering she and dad had named me Eva Rebecca.

Richard shrugged. "It's Fred. That's the best explanation I have."

About as good an explanation as any.

"Thanks, Fred," I grinned and returned his hug.

"That was…wow," Christopher told me. "I knew you were good, Eva, but I didn't know you were _that_ good. How are your fingers?"

"I'm trying not to think about it," I admitted.

"You ready to meet the Potters?" Fred winked at me. Christopher grinned widely.

I felt my eyes widen and I nearly blanched. "_What_?"

Fred put his hands on my shoulders and forcibly spun me around on the spot. "Ready or not!"

James was moving towards me with his parents, Al, and Lily in tow. Behind them were other members of the family, but they hung back. Holy hippogriffs, I was going to meet Harry Potter. I mean, I'd grown up with a famous dad and a well-known mum, but James's dad had defeated Voldemort. No matter what James said, that was just a completely different level of famous.

Lily glanced excitedly between her parents and me. Then she waved cheerfully at me before walking around to talk to Richard and my parents.

"Well done!" Al greeted me. He was carrying a scarlet and gold Gryffindor pennant and someone (Fred again, I suspected) had painted a large red and gold G on one of his cheeks. Behind them, I could see Roxanne, Rose and other members of the Weasley family talking excitedly.

Harry Potter looked almost exactly like Al, but older. He had the same untidy black hair and bright green eyes and tall and thin build. I could see the resemblance between James and his dad as well. James had inherited Mr. Potter's height, build, and his messy hair. However, his eyes were Ginny's and his facial features and smile were more masculine versions of his mum's. Ginny Potter was a very pretty woman with flaming red hair, kind brown eyes, and a quick, slightly mischievous smile.

"Eva, these are my parents, Harry and Ginny Potter. Mum, Dad – this is Eva. My girlfriend."

James's face was a little red as he said all this.

"It's great to meet you," I said, and reached out to shake Mr. Potter's proffered hand, then remembered that I had dislocated fingers. I ended up switching hands and very awkwardly offering him my left to shake instead.

I let out a nervous laugh and Mr. Potter's mouth twitched as he shook my left hand. Not wanting to seem rude, I kept my eyes from glancing at Mr. Potter's forehead and his renowned lightning bolt scar.

"We've certainly heard a lot about you, Eva" Mrs. Potter smiled warmly at me.

"_A lot_," Mr. Potter agreed, nodding. "You seem to take up a lot of space in his letters home."

"_Dad_," James protested, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

"We warned you when you before you were old enough to date exactly what would happen when you introduced us to a girl. You're not going to deny me the chance to embarrass my oldest son, are you?"

"Don't forget that we need to meet Richard, too," Mrs. Potter reminded her husband cheerfully. "He's the one dating your only daughter."

"It's not likely that I'll be forgetting _that,_" Mr. Potter muttered.

In spite of my earlier worries, I found myself grinning. The Potters were just so…_normal_.

"Richard's all right, I suppose," I said with a hint of sarcasm as I glanced over at my brother and Lily.

"You played fantastically today, Eva," Mrs. Potter told me. "James tells us that you want to play professionally, too."

"That's right."

"I noticed a lot of scouts in the stands," Mr. Potter observed. "After that match, I reckon the pair of you will be receiving plenty of offers. Let me guess, you have your sights set on Puddlemere?"

"Guilty," I laughed. "Mum and dad raised me to be a tried and true Puddlemere fan. Well, Dad mostly. I mean, Mum loves Quidditch too, obviously, but Dad's the truly fanatical one."

"I should say hello to Oliver," Harry said. "He was my Quidditch captain from first to third year. I still remember when McGonagall pulled him out of lessons to tell him she'd found a Seeker for Gryffindor. I thought she was going to expel me." He smiled faintly at the memory.

Mrs. Potter smiled warmly at me. "Well, best of luck with your try outs, Eva. If today's match was anything to judge by, the scouts would be mad if you didn't receive several offers. James, make sure to bring her over for dinner this summer. We'll want to hear all about try outs."

"Thanks, Mrs. Potter."

She waved off my words. "Please, call us Ginny and Harry."

"Oh," I said, reverting to my good old standby. "Thanks. Ginny."

Turning to James, I smiled teasingly and asked, "Ready to meet _my_ parents?"

"Meet Oliver Wood?"

I rolled my eyes. "I just met Harry and Ginny Potter – I think you can handle meeting Oliver Wood."

"But that was just Mum and Dad."

"To _you_!" I logically pointed out with a light prod to his shoulder. "And Oliver Wood is just Dad to _me_."

Behind us, I heard Harry and Ginny laughing at us. I felt my face grow warm. Perhaps I should have considered the fact that they were standing right there and could clearly hear our conversation. Oops. Well, that was incredibly awkward.

Walking over to Mum and Dad, I saw them chatting with Lily and Richard. Gareth was studiously ignoring Tristan and Elena and talking to one of his friends instead.

"James, these are my parents, Phillipa and Oliver Wood. Mum, Dad, this is James."

"It's wonderful to meet finally meet you, James," Mum said in her usual kind tone. "Please call me Pippa."

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Wood," James replied.

"Pippa," Mum reminded him.

Dad skipped introductions completely and jumped right into Quidditch talk. "I see your broom is a Nimbus 5000. That's a good quality broom and it looks like you keep it in good condition. I take it you're going to be using that for your try outs?"

"Yes, Sir. When I learned to fly, Dad started me out on the Cleansweep line, but those pull to the left after a few years. This was a gift for my birthday last year, and I've been very pleased with it. I like the way it handles – just small adjustments."

Dad nodded excitedly. "That's what I've always thought. The steering features on that model are excellent. It's certainly been a good broom for both Eva and Richard."

Mum shook her head slightly as she observed the scene, but she couldn't help but smile.

"Eva, don't forget you still need to go to the hospital wing and have your nose and fingers mended," Mum reminded me.

I glanced over at James and grinned. "It wouldn't have been right to have left Hogwarts and not gone to see Madam Pomfrey one last time."

"She'll be thrilled to see us," James predicted with a smirk. "One final lecture on the dangers of Quidditch. Let's go, Captain. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can celebrate with our House."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

**Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And a special thanks to my beta, **_**blue and gold**_**, for the helpful suggestions and fabulous beta abilities. **

**Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought! **

**Next Chapter:** Last chapter! The Gryffindor victory party, Eva has one last run in with her archenemy, Quidditch letters arrive, and Sorcha finally gets the chance to meet Oliver Wood.


	30. Game On

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.

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_**Chapter 30: Game On **_

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By the time that James, Lily, and I had returned from the hospital wing, the Gryffindor Victory party was well under way. Our fellow housemates had greeted us with much cheering and pennant waving. In Fred's case, he had decided to stand on a table and sing verses from the famous thirteenth century poem about Quidditch found in _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

"I need a picture of this," Rose grinned widely as she raised her camera. "Too bad it would never work as blackmail. Fred doesn't really have much sense of shame."

"_Oh the thrill of the chase as I soar through the air_… Cheers, Rosie. I want a copy!" he cried gleefully as he saw Rose aiming her camera in his direction.

"You know, he's not half bad," James observed, taking a small swallow from the bottle of butterbeer clutched in his hand.

"_With the Snitch up ahead and the wind in my hair_…"

"Sure it's funny now, but once he's had a few more drinks, how many times do you think he'll sing that?" Roxanne grimaced slightly. "Sometimes it's embarrassing to believe I'm related to him."

"_As I draw ever closer, the crowd gives a shout…"_

"Well," Christine mused thoughtfully, "at least it's better than that song he sang last year when we lost."

Ugh. That was one memory I could do without – Fred drunkenly singing a funeral dirge.

_"But then comes a Bludger and I am knocked oooouuuuut!"_

The end of the song was met with enthusiastic cheering and clapping. Someone magically raised the volume on the radio (I suspected an attempt to keep Fred from repeating his song) and students began dancing. Nico led Bree out onto the empty space in the middle of the room that served as a makeshift dance floor. They were joined by Lily and Richard.

"Look," I pointed, not as subtly as I should have done. "Gemma's dancing with some sixth year bloke. Perhaps she's actually trying to get over you."

"About bleeding time," James commented with a trace of relief in his voice.

There was Sorcha and Roxanne dancing in a circle with a group of people that included Fred, who was still attempting to sing over the music already blaring throughout the common room.

"Want to dance?" James offered me his hand.

I grasped his hand in my own. "All right, then."

"Your fingers and wrist feeling better?" he asked as he twirled me out and then back in, closer to his body.

"Much," I breathed a sigh of relief. Madam Pomfrey had mended and wrapped my dislocated fingers, wrapped my wrist with medical gauze again, healed my nose, and given me a restorative healing potion. She had also healed James's broken arm. Naturally, she had spent nearly the entire time muttering about the dangers of Quidditch.

"Still going to learn to be ambidextrous?" James asked somewhat teasingly. "You know, it's not actually a bad idea. It would be useful when injuries occur, but it would also strengthen your non-dominant arm."

I nodded. "I think I'll start working on that over the summer. I could get Richard and Lily to help me practice catching and passing the Quaffle."

James looked a bit miffed. "I can throw a Quaffle too, you know. I learned from my mum. She played both Seeker and Chaser while she was at Hogwarts."

I stopped dancing and stared at him, dumfounded. "James Potter, do you mean to tell me that you're capable of playing Chaser as well?"

How had I never known about this before?!

He smirked cheekily as he steered me into resuming dancing. "I did tell you once that there was a lot you didn't know about me."

"Clearly. I thought we were have supposed to have gotten all of our secrets out in the open?"

"All right, in the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that while I'm capable of playing Chaser, my skills aren't even half what yours are, or even Lily's. I don't play Chaser very often, just usually during family matches during the holidays."

"I'm not surprised your family does that too," I grinned. "You and Lily will have to join in a family match this summer. It might be fun with a few more players. Only don't tell Fred. He'd take the mickey out of me for certain and tease me about you being part of the family already."

James was staring at me strangely, which made me a tad uncomfortable. Was he thinking about how he was falling in love with me? Had I said more than I should have and given him hope (again) that I was certain I felt the same?

"What is it?" I asked hesitantly.

"Play Quidditch with Oliver Wood?" he breathed, his brown eyes going a bit glassy.

I mentally breathed a sigh of relief.

"Get a hold of yourself," I teased him.

"Eva…backyard Quidditch…_with Oliver Wood_."

"And you thought _I _was ridiculous about your parents. How is this any different?"

"_Quidditch_…."

Well, fair enough. With the exception of the Muggleborns, everyone our age had grown up watching Oliver Wood play Quidditch and rise to be the most decorated player in Puddlemere history. For all that he was my dad, he was also an icon for many young Quidditch players. It wasn't that I forgot, I just didn't think about it all the time. Quidditch was a part of nearly everything he did, but most of the time he was simply Dad.

"You can play Quidditch with my family, and I'll come to family dinner at your house. Deal?" I asked.

"You can play Quidditch with us, too," James said.

Now it was my turn to be a bit star struck. Play Quidditch with Ginny and Harry Potter?

James smirked at my apparently dazed facial expression.

"It's just Ginny and Harry Potter," he smirked down at me.

"Prat."

"Dance with me, Eva Louise!" Fred announced loudly, coming up behind James and I and tapping me in the shoulder probably a bit harder than he had intended to. His voice was a wee bit slurred.

"Ow," I commented, rubbing my shoulder. "I don't know that I want to dance with the likes of you."

"Sorry 'bout that," Fred patted me more gently on the same shoulder. "I just wanted to dance with one of the stars of the hour."

"Dance with him, then," I teased, shoving James in Fred's direction. "Didn't you see that spectacular Snitch catch? He's the real star of the hour."

"Spot on," Fred agreed with a firm nod and pulled James away, with James laughing all the while.

I found Christine talking with Lily, Rose, and Al.

Christine grabbed my hand and examined my fingers, then peered into my face. "Thank goodness. You look much better than when I saw you on the pitch. The rain had washed most of the blood away, but there was still some around your nose. And your hand looked a bit wonky and swollen."

Lovely mental image, that.

"I took some great pictures," she added. "Not of your injuries!" she laughed at the face I pulled at her comment. "There's one of you holding the Quidditch Cup over your head that I think is going to turn out especially well."

"Can we frame it and put it on the living room mantle?" I asked, not even remotely joking.

"Of course we are," was her quick response. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Are you two getting a flat together, then?" Al asked, motioning between Christine and I.

"Yeah," I nodded. "As soon as Christine finds a job and once a team is willing to sign me."

"I highly doubt you'll have to worry about offers from teams, Eva," Lily said. "Mum said so, and she knows what she's talking about."

"Thanks," I grinned widely, thinking of Ginny Potter saying positive things about my future Quidditch career. "I…I mean, yeah! That's brilliant!

Al and Lily cast a quick glance at each other and then burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Christine asked.

Ha, for once I wasn't the only one who didn't know what was going on. I had to admit that it felt nice.

"James was right," Lily laughed. "Eva's star struck with Mum."

"Well, she's Ginny Potter!" I protested, once again not understanding why people thought that this was so funny.

"Your dad is Oliver Wood, shouldn't you be used to famous people?"

"I'm not having this discussion _again_," I rolled my eyes slightly.

I was saved from further rehashing of that topic when a large, obnoxious squawking noise rose above the sound of the music.

Lily's eyes were twinkling as she said, "Looks like Fred set out some canary creams in honor of the occasion."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, Fred."

Peering across the room, I saw a large canary sitting on one of the sofas surrounding by a group of girls who seemed torn between laughter and panic. The one with the feathers was flapping her arms around wildly and making quite a scene.

"This is going to end badly," came James's voice from behind me.

"Why?" Christine asked.

"Because the girl who's currently a canary is Susannah Peters."

There was a collective intake of breath and I saw Al's eyes widen in alarm.

"Ah, yeah. No question about it," I agreed sympathetically. "Definitely badly."

"FRED WEASELY YOU SODDING PRAT!"

"Looks like the canary cream wore off," Lily commented unnecessarily.

"What does Fred see in her, anyway?" I asked, genuinely curious. Susannah had always seemed like the last type of girl that Fred would be interested in. Sure , sometimes opposites attracted, but this didn't seem so much to be a case of opposites as it did incompatibility.

James shrugged and huffed in a frustrated manner. "Dunno. Ever since last December when he and I set up that mistletoe in the common room and he kissed her he's been stuck on her. She's never been able to stand him, though."

"Was that the same mistletoe that…" Al glanced at me, then quickly looked away, his ears and face flaming red.

James's face darkened a bit but all he said was, "Yeah."

"Oh dear…"

Fred had been on his way over to where our small group was standing when Susannah had marched up to him and thrown a handful of yellow canary feathers in his face. Fred stood there, obviously attempting to joke with her. Unfortunately for Fred (but fortunately for the resident meddlers), they were close enough so that we could hear their conversation.

"Why?" he suddenly burst out. The radio continued to play loudly and most people continued dancing and chatting, completely unaware of what was happening here in the far corner of the room. I wished that I was one of them.

This was so incredibly awkward.

"Because that _wasn't funny_!"

"'Course it was!"

"Listen Weasley, I've told you before - I don't fancy you, and I never, _ever _will!"

"Just give me a chance, one chance!"

Then, in what can only be described as a completely unhinged, unexpected, and desperate move, Fred reached out and grabbed Susannah by the shoulders and pressed his mouth to hers.

Lily covered her eyes with the hand that wasn't holding her bottle of butterbeer. "I can't look. Tell me when it's over."

"Godric, now he's done it," James closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Plank."

It didn't take Susannah long at all before she had pulled away and drawn her hand back, giving Fred a resounding slap directly across the face.

"What the bleeding hell was that for?" he yelled, seeming startled. The side of his face was quickly turning a bright red. Now a few more people had noticed that something was going on. After all, it wasn't every day that someone was slapped in the common room, let alone at a Quidditch victory party.

"Get away from me!" she cried angrily. "I have a boyfriend, all right? I have a boyfriend, so leave me alone!"

"What? _Who_?" Fred asked incredulously. "I've never seen you with

anyone."

"He's a Muggle from back home," was the defiant response.

"Are you taking t'mickey?"

"Why would I lie about that?"

"Oh, I dunno," Fred replied sarcastically, "To get rid of me?"

I wanted to hit my head against the wall. And then hit Fred over the head with something heavy like a Beater's bat. Merlin, what a prat.

"Even _I_ was never that thick," James murmured to me, eyes still fixed on the scene taking place nearly in front of us.

"I beg to differ," I muttered back.

"So what's his name if he's so real?" Fred continued.

"D'you think we should stop him?" James asked.

"You lot are the meddlers, not me," I whispered back. I noticed that Lily was peaking out from between her fingers. I knew she couldn't look away for long. This was a scene meant for nosy parkers.

"His name's Alfie and he goes to St. Bartholomew's and he plays rugby and he plays guitar in a band. He has three younger sisters named Lucie, Martha, and Sarah. His parents are James and Harriet. His best friend is named David. I'm Muggleborn and he's a Muggle so we like a lot of the same music and films. He lives across the street from my parents and we were friends in primary school before I came to Hogwarts. _Are you happy now_?"

This was said all in one long breath. Fred stared at Susannah with a dawning look of comprehension.

"But…why didn't you mention him before?"

"We're not friends, Weasley! Why would I tell you about my life?"

"Have you been leading me on?"

Susannah threw her hands up in her air in resignation. "Alfie and I only started seeing each other over Christmas holiday, but I've fancied him for a long time." She picked up another handful of feathers and threw them at him. "Now, once and for all, _leave me alone!_"

Fred stared after as she marched over to her friends who, like us, had been watching the entire, terrible scene unfold.

"Everyone do the hippogriff!" I heard a voice I recognized as Roxanne's call out. "Are we celebrating a Quidditch victory or not?"

I smiled slightly, realizing that Roxanne was trying to draw attention away from Fred and get people's minds back on the party. It seemed to work, as more people moved to dance along to the Weird Sisters and the volume of the music was raised.

Fred slowly made his way over to us. "You lot heard that?"

We all nodded solemnly. No one quite wanted to meet his eyes.

"She's dating some other bloke."

"Yeah," Al agreed quietly.

"But it wasn't supposed to be like this," Fred said, his tone confused. "I mean, look at you two." He motioned between James and me.

I frowned in confusion. "What about us?"

Everyone shot me a look that said I should have known to what Fred was referring. They really, really should have known better.

"You couldn't stand each other and now you're together and happy and…I just thought it would work out, you know?"

"Fred, even when James I didn't get along all the time we still had stuff in common," I told him gently.

"You do know she doesn't have a sense of humor, yeah?" was James's contribution.

"True, Fred," Lily chimed in. "You need someone who appreciates your humor and doesn't mind that you're meddlesome and like to tease people."

"Or turn them into canaries," Christine smiled kindly.

Fred cracked a smile at this. Even when he was down, Fred couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks."

"Dance with me?" I asked Fred, extending him a hand. "You said earlier that you wanted to dance, remember?"

"All right, then." Fred allowed me to pull him out onto the dance floor where people were now jumping up and down and flailing all around to an upbeat song by a new wizarding band that a lot of the younger girls were mad for due to the fact the members were all in the range of eighteen to twenty-one and apparently very attractive.

"What in the hell is this?" Fred asked, referring to the song currently playing. His question was accompanied by an exaggerated gaging motion.

"Wands Alike," I replied. Ugh, I can't believe I knew that. Someone Avada me now. "Gemma and Sorcha like them, as do a lot of girls of the giggly sort."

"Ah."

We danced for a while and chatted as I tried to keep Fred's mind off Susannah's latest – and final – rejection. At one point, I saw James watching us, a bit of a funny look on his face.

"I think he's jealous," Fred grinned at me. Then with an incredibly exaggerated wink, he unexpectedly dipped me low, his left hand carefully supporting my back. As it was, I had to firmly grasp his neck to keep myself balanced.

I laughed loudly as Fred pulled me upright again. "I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you," I warned him, still unable to refrain from laughing. "My boyfriend's a rather jealous lad."

"Totally and completely worth it, Eva Louise."

"You might not think so when you wake up with itching powder on your sheets or a niffler in your trunk or something like that."

We were silent for a moment, then Fred said, "Thanks for helping me to not think about it. Her."

"Oh. You're welcome."

"James is a lucky bloke," he observed thoughtfully. "I know you don't like me teasing you about it, but I really do hope that you become part of the family someday. You two… you just _fit_."

"Thanks," I told Fred, this one time ignoring the comment about me someday marrying James. It was too soon to be thinking about that far in the future, but, well, Fred had meant well and for once wasn't trying to tease me.

"He's watching us again," Fred whispered conspiratorially before leaning in and giving me a hurried peck on the cheek.

"Gotta run, Eva Louise!" he laughed loudly and then ran off to talk to Roxanne, throwing James a mischievous grin over his shoulder as he went.

"You make it much too easy for him," I told James as I approached.

James rolled his eyes. "I'm not jealous of _Fred._"

I raised an eyebrow. "Sure about that? Your expression seemed awfully jealous to me."

James snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. "I was wishing it was me dancing with you."

"I danced with you earlier. Besides, I was trying to keep Fred's mind off that complete and utter cow."

"I know," he nodded. "Thanks for that."

James was leaning in to kiss me when a loud whistle brought everyone's attention and someone turned the music down slightly. Nico was standing on top of a table, but even so he still wasn't very tall. The thought made me smile to myself.

"Gryffindors!" he roared mightily, "Three cheers for your captain, EVA WOOD!"

I felt my face grow pleasantly warm as the entirety of Gryffindor House broke out in thunderous applause and the repeated cheering of my name.

I punched my fist in the air. "VICTORY FOR GRYFFINODR!" I shouted with all of the triumph that I had been feeling since the match ended.

"Victory for Gryffindor!" the members of my House roared back with unbridled enthusiasm. "VICTORY FOR GRYFFINDOR!"

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Scenes from the day before kept playing in a continuous loop behind my eyelids. It had been by the thinnest of margins, but we had won.

Gryffindor had won.

_Gryffindor had won. _Those words were repeating every time my feet met the earth as I ran around the Great Lake.

Winning felt wonderful, of course it did. But more important than that, was that Gryffindor had played the match of our lives. We hadn't been the favorites to win the Cup, but through hard practice and constant dedication we had pulled together. We had played with a level of teamwork that I had never before experienced. Playing that match…I had never felt so wonderfully alive.

I had barely stopped smiling since that moment when James had caught the Golden Snitch. As it turned out, attempting to brush my teeth while also smiling widely didn't end well. It ended with toothpaste splattered all over my pyjama shirt.

As I reached the end of my run, I slowed my pace to a walk in order to cool down. After I had walked a bit, I settled down next to a large bush situated on the edge of the Great Lake to rest for a moment. I hadn't been there long when I heard the pounding of footsteps rapidly approaching. Someone collapsed just on the other side of the plants on my left and promptly began sobbing.

Not just crying a lot, but body racking, uncontrollable, gasping sobs.

Was it just me, or did I manage to find myself in awkward situations entirely too often?

Thinking that I could manage to sneak away quietly while the weeper was distracted, I stood up and did my best to silently tiptoe back towards the castle without being seen. Unfortunately for me, my plan went awry.

There was a loud snapping noise and I looked down in horror to see that I had accidentally trodden on a fallen stick from the nearest tree.

The person weeping gave a sharp gasp at the sound. Out of instinct, I looked in their direction and immediately wished that I hadn't.

Oh, holy hippogriffs!

My gaze met the cold, black eyes of Lyra Rinaldi. Her usually sleek, black hair was a frizzy mess that stuck up on end as though she had run her hands through it countless times.

"Of course it would be _you_," she cried angrily, tearing her eyes away from mine and staring out at the lake. "Of all the people I don't want seeing me like this, _it's you_."

I barely knew what to say. Rinaldi had been sobbing. She…she had _feelings_. Feelings that weren't related to bullying and belittling others. This realization felt rather as though someone had just told me that I had been misunderstanding the rules of Quidditch my entire life. It was _that _disconcerting.

"Er… uh, I-I'm sorry," I stammered, completely unsure of what do. I couldn't very well stay here, and my mind was screaming at me to leave, but my feet seemed to be rooted to the ground out of pure shock.

"You should be!" she snapped, her voice more harsh and grating than usual. "If you hadn't…Merlin, they're so upset_…they expected me to…but I didn't…"_

I hoped that she didn't expect me to understand what that meant.

Her lips twisted into a mocking smile. "You have such a sodding _perfect_ life…perfect family, perfect friends, perfect boyfriend…no one's ever disappointed in you for not living up to their standards of what they want for your life."

The Quidditch Cup, I realized belatedly. She was upset about not winning the Quidditch Cup. But even more so, someone (or multiple someones) was disappointed in her for not winning. Who, I didn't know, but obviously their approval meant something to her. I supposed her parents were the likeliest candidates, considering her words about not living up to others expectations for her life. It was strange, the idea of Lyra Rinaldi desiring anyone's approval….she was just such an emotionally cold person that I had never thought of her needing– let alone wanting - _anyone's_ approval.

"Don't you _dare_ feel sorry for me!" she snapped as she took in my shocked facial expression.

Sorry for her? Not bloody likely.

"I might feel sorry for you if you hadn't spent your time trying to push me down in any way you could think of it, and if you hadn't had Barnett injure me and my teammates before the match."

"Anything to win, Wood." Her eyes were cold and hollow.

"You're a good player, you know," I told her. "You could be better than dirty tactics."

"Oh, get off your sodding Gryffindor high horse," she spat. "Not all of us can afford – or want to be – so _pathetically honorable_ all of the time."

I refused to let her words sting, so I just shrugged. "It won us the Cup."

"Gryffindor will be nothing with you and Potter gone next year," she sneered and hastily wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her black cardigan.

I felt my eyes widen in surprise. It hadn't been intentional, but Lyra Rinaldi has just highly praised our ability on the pitch.

I inclined my head in her direction. "On behalf of James and myself, I'll take that as a compliment. But I have every faith in the new captain. Best be prepared, Rinaldi."

As I strode away from the bank of the Great Lake, it occurred to me that this encounter might be my last with Lyra Rinald. That didn't hurt my feelings at all.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Later that morning at breakfast I looked up from my breakfast plate to see Sorcha thrusting a copy of _Witch Weekly_ disturbingly close to my face. Ugh, I had NETWs to worry about. I did not have time for her ridiculousness.

"_Witch Weekly_…what about it?" I asked, afraid to know what new article she had found on my dad now.

"Look at page twenty-three," she instructed me, handing me the glossy magazine.

I pushed it away from me. "Sorcha, I _really don't_ want to read any gossip articles about my dad. What don't you understand about that?"

Merlin, what would it take to get through to this girl? I supposed at this point in our Hogwarts career, I should probably consider it a lost cause and cut my losses.

Sorcha looked surprised. "Oh, it's not about Oliver Wood. It's about you and James."

I fairly ripped the magazine from her hands and tore it open to page twenty-three. I stared at the page in complete and utter shock. What in the…how had…I mean…_what?_

Like all wizarding pictures, this was one was moving. James and I were standing on the pitch sharing a kiss as the rain ran own our faces and onto our already soaked our Quidditch robes. James was holding my face in his hands and my hands were in his hair. If you looked closely, you could see a bit of blood on my face from my broken nose. The photograph was accompanied by a large, bold caption proclaiming, "Has the son of the Chosen One found _his_ chosen one in the daughter of Puddlemere coach?"

"It's a _lovely_ photograph," Sorcha commented with a hint of a sigh in her voice. She reached up and swept her curly black hair out of her face. "It's quite swoon worthy, really."

James and me swoon worthy? She had to be joking. And who had made up that utterly ridiculous title? 'Had the son of the Chosen One found his chosen one?' Merlin, that couldn't have been anymore clichéd if they'd actually tried.

"Isn't that an invasion of privacy?" Christine spoke up. Like me, she had been staring at the magazine in horror.

"It's a fan submitted picture," Sorcha said, as though that explained everything.

Fan submitted…who would bother to take a picture of James and I snogging on the pitch?

"Sorcha… you didn't," Christine said in a weak, disappointed voice.

Holy hippogriffs, _no_. I glanced down at the bottom of the page and read: _Photograph submitted by S. Patterson. _

I threw the magazine down on the table with such force that I accidentally knocked over Christine's goblet of orange juice. She hastily righted it and vanished the liquid racing across the table with a quick wave of her wand.

"W-what were – Merlin, were you _thinking_?" I stammered. I was so angry I was having difficulty forming a proper sentence.

"I didn't think you'd mind," Sorcha replied, seeming a bit deflated by my angry reaction. "Your and James's families are mentioned in the papers all the time. I thought you'd be used to it."

All right, what she was saying was technically true, but I wasn't the one used to being mentioned (let alone photographed!) in the papers. My dad was the famous one – he was the one featured in the magazines and newspapers, not me. Sure, a picture of the whole family had been in Quidditch Weekly once for some article on my dad's retirement from professional play. But this…_holy hippogriffs_.

"You're going to be famous, Eva," Sorcha told me in a 'this is common sense' voice. "You're going to be a Quidditch star. People will want to know about your life. And they'll want to know about you and James because of your families, especially James's dad."

"People are always so shocked to learn that Harry Potter has well adjusted children," James joked as he sat down next to me.

"You saw the article, then?" I asked him. How could he be so calm when I was on the verge of pulling out my wand and hitting Sorcha Patterson directly in the face with a bat bogey hex?

He shook his head. "Nah, I don't read gossip articles that involve my family. Most of it's made up anyway. Just ignore them. You can't stop people from printing that rubbish, so just ignore it and carry on."

Sorcha opened her mouth and then closed it again. "Well," she finally decided on, "Here's the original. I thought you might like it. It's a nice picture of you two."

From out of her robes, she pulled out the moving photograph and handed it to me. I took it from her wordlessly.

After she had walked away, James reached over and snagged the photograph from my fingers. He looked at it thoughtfully.

"She's barking mad, but that _is_ a good photo," he said after he finished swallowing his toast.

"It looks much better without the idiotic caption," I allowed. All right, so it was a nice picture. It was still an invasion of my privacy.

Christine laughed as she remembered the caption. "Do they really pay people to make up captions like that? 'Has the son of the Chosen One found _his_ chosen one in the daughter of Puddlemere coach?'"

She and I both grimaced, but then suddenly we found ourselves laughing hysterically.

James stared at the two of us as though we were the mad ones. "You're taking the mickey, yeah?"

I shook my head as I leaned against Christine for support. "Sadly, no."

"It _actually _said that?"

"Yes," I managed through peals of laughter. "It did. It really did."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

Now that the Quidditch season was over and the Quidditch Cup had been won, I just had one more major hurdle before my time at Hogwarts was complete.

NEWTs.

Studying for NEWTs while also completing regularly assignment schoolwork and spending so much time training for Quidditch had been taking its toll on me. I found that I was actually relieved to have a break from Quidditch. Just for the moment, of course. Once the exams were blessedly over and done with, I could start training for my reserve tryouts. Luckily for me, Quidditch players didn't need high exam scores, but all the same I didn't want to fail either.

All of us seventh year Gryffindors spent our remaining afternoons and evenings before the exams sitting in the library studying from our notes and textbooks and practicing various spells and charms for the practical portions. I felt certain that I was never going to master several of the spells and then make a complete idiot out of myself in front of the examiners.

Thankfully Christopher was able to help with the gaps in my Herbology knowledge. After he and Savitri broke up, we had switched back to being Herbology partners in that lesson and my marks had improved nicely in the last few weeks.

Fred's control of the water stream from the _Aguamenti_ charm was tenuous at best. He kept increasing the water flow too much and getting the people around him wet, even once accidentally creating a wave. We had to practice that particular charm outside by the Great Lake.

Finally, the day for the first exams came. Everyone in the dormitory was nervous. Gemma kept fiddling with her wand, which then caused her to light her bed hangings on fire just before we were about to go to breakfast. Thankfully, we'd all been studying so much that we had no difficult putting the fire out and mending the hangings.

Before the Transfiguration exam, Christine and Kieran spent breakfast quizzing each other, and Sorcha could be heard muttering spells and definitions under her breath. Somehow she managed to relate the most obscure things back to my dad. I supposed it was some sort of pneumonic device for her, but it was bloody strange to me.

The exams themselves were just as, if not more so, nastily exhausting as advertised and by the end of the week, everyone was mentally drained. I undoubtedly did the best in Charms even though my non-verbal cheering charm in the practical exam had bee a bit strong. The examiner hadn't been able to stop giggling well after I had competed the practical portion.

All in all, I felt that NEWTS had gone as well and that I wouldn't be receiving a letter full of Trolls this summer. Quidditch scouts might not care what kinds NEWTS I achieved, but my mum did. And so did I.

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

"Oi, that's a lot of owls," Fred exhaled, his eyes taking in the sight of the hoard of owls surrounding me and James at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

Christine nudged her plate away from a large barn owl that was eyeing her bacon with keen interest.

My heart was positively thundering in my chest. This was the day that I been waiting for – the day when letters offering tryouts to professional Quidditch teams arrived.

"Breathe," Christine told me, a smile gracing her face. "And pick an envelope!"

Naturally, the first envelope I reached for was for emblazed with the Puddlemere logo. I used my butter knife to slit open the heavy parchment envelope and held my breath as I read. When I lowered the parchment, everyone was staring at me in eager anticipation.

"Puddlemere wants me to come to a tryout for the reserves!" I exclaimed, grinning widely. I was so thrilled that I wanted to jump up on the Gryffindor table and shout out my news to the entire Great Hall at the top of my voice. It took some doing, but I restrained myself.

All of my dreams could come true, and tryouts for Puddlemere was the start of it all. This was a moment for which I had worked and planned for so long. Now that it was here, I could barely contain my excitement.

"Puddlemere wants me to try out for reserves as well," James said happily, setting a similar letter down next to his plate. He smiled at me, then reached for the next envelope in his stack.

My next few letters contained reserve tryout offers from the Falmouth Falcons, Caerphilly Catapults, the Montrose Magpies, the Tutshill Tornadoes, and even one from the continent – the Heidelberg Harriers. James's reserve tryout offers came from the Falmouth Falcons, the Montrose Magpies, Fitchburg Finches, Ballycastle Bats, and the Appleby Arrows.

As James opened his last letter (which had come in an obnoxiously bright orange envelope), he began choking on his breakfast. Fred thumped him on the back a few times, which seemed to help.

"Are you all right?" I asked, peering into his still red face. Choking to death on toast and marmalade before ever having the chance to play professional Quidditch would be tragic. More than tragic, really. Not to mention downright embarrassing.

He thrust the parchment at me, eyes wide in shock.

"The Canons want you to try out for the main team?" I asked, my own eyes wide as I read his letter. "James…that's _fabulous_!"

Main team?! Holy hippogriffs! To be offered main team straight out of Hogwarts was nearly unheard of!

"Uncle Ron'll be so proud!" Fred exclaimed cheerfully. "All right, last letter, Eva Louise."

I opened the letter, prepared for what I would be reading. But what I saw on the parchment made me drop the letter right onto my plate and into my yogurt.

"What's wrong?" Christine asked, eyes looking fearful.

"The Harpies…" I said slowly, completely stunned. "They – they want me to tryout for their main team."

"_Both _of you got main team try out offers?" Christopher whistled lowly. "Well done!"

I couldn't speak. A main team try out offer…

Well, in any case, one of my decisions was made. After lessons, I was throwing the letter from the Tornados into the common room fireplace and happily watching it burn down to nothing but grey ash. As if I'd want to play for the team that had caused so many problems in my family.

"Wait till your parents find out!" Christine grinned. "Eva…all of your plans, they're coming true."

My cheek muscles were starting to hurt, but I couldn't keep the wide grin from my face. "It's coming true," I repeated. "It's coming true."

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

More quickly than I could have believed possible, lessons had finished, the end of term feast was over, our trunks were packed, and the dormitory that had been my home for seven years was empty. A new group of girls would live there next year, just starting out their magical training. I wondered it any of them would be as mental as Sorcha (admittedly difficult to accomplish) or as prone to set fires as Gemma or excitable as Roxanne or as kind as Christine or as Quidditch enthused as me.

I hoped so.

Just as we had done when we first arrived at Hogwarts as nervous eleven year olds, we rode in the boats across the Great Lake away from the castle and back to the train station. I thought back to that first ride now, and remembered that despite my worries about which House I would be sorted into and about making friends, there had been one unwavering constant – I knew that I was going to play Quidditch.

Staring up at Hogwarts as it grew further and further away, I thought of how Gryffindor Tower had been my home. It sounded silly, but I was going to miss waking up early to remove the silencing charm from Sorcha's bed. I was going to miss laughing with Christine about Gemma setting things on fire. I was going to miss the loud chatter of the common room. I was even going to miss the squeaky door in the girls' locker room showers down at the pitch.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my camera and took a photograph of the scene before me. Then I took one of everyone in the boat so I would always remember this moment.

"Just think," James smirked as he gazed up, "generations from now, Gryffindors will still be reading that sign you posted about coming to Gryffindor team tryouts to see my abs."

I laughed remembering back to the beginning of the term.

"Life has changed a lot, hasn't it?" I said, still smiling. "What a year."

"Now we're on to the next great adventure," Kieran said, looking up at Hogwarts sitting majestically across the water of the banks of the Great Lake.

"I have a feeling this next year will be full of just as many changes," Christine agreed, taking Kieran's hand and lacing their fingers together. They smiled warmly at each other.

If those two weren't engaged within two or three years, I'd eat a hippogriff.

"James, you're going to be living with Fred, correct?" Kieran asked.

James nodded. "That's our plan."

"You and Fred together without any supervision…you're going to burn down your flat," I teased him.

All too soon we were boarding the Hogwarts Express for the last time. For most of the journey back to London, James and I sat with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. We discussed the match against Ravenclaw in minute detail, complete with attempted reenactments.

"Any hints about who's going to be captain next year?" Nico asked hopefully as the train slowed down as we entered London.

"The next captain will receive their letter and the badge in the post over the holiday."

I knew the suspense was terrible, but rules were rules. Every previous Quidditch captain had had to wait to find out if they had earned the golden badge and so would my successor.

"But you've decided, yeah?" Zara questioned.

I nodded slowly. "I met with Professor Longbottom after NEWTs were finished to discuss it with him. He agreed with my choice, so it's all decided. But like I said, the next captain will find out over the holiday when they receive their regular school letter."

Professor Longbottom had had no qualms about my choice for the next Gryffindor Quidditch captain. I had explained my reasons and laid out a thorough argument (like all good captains, I had come prepared) and he had agreed that my choice had merit. I knew that the members of the team would be pleased with my choice and I had a feeling that the next captain would be more than capable of rising to the challenges that awaited.

We were nearly at King's Cross now. I cleared my throat and prepared to say something to my team one last time. They all watched me with slight smiles on their faces. James's wasn't so much a smile as a smirk. Typical.

"I'm not certain when we'll all be together again," I told them, "but I just wanted to say thank you for making this the most brilliant Quidditch season ever."

"Thanks for being our fearless leader," Nico told me sincerely, and everyone else chimed in.

"Promise to write," Zara said firmly. "We'll want to know all about tryouts and training."

"And any handsome Quidditch players," Bree added.

This comment was met with a scowl from James and Nico.

As we stepped off the train, I looked back at the scarlet steam engine that had transported me to Hogwarts and back home for seven years.

"I'm going to miss our Quidditch team," I sighed wistfully, not wanting to part with them. I glanced around the platform, spotting the Gryffindor team members.

There was Nico with his parents, who were both below average height (it didn't look like Nico would ever be very tall, poor lad). Bree was standing with her sister, Natasha, and a man I could only assume was their father. He had the same eyes. Zara was waving frantically in the direction of an older lady who appeared to be her grandmother.

Even though I certainly hadn't been looking for her, there was Lyra Rinaldi. The man and woman flanking her could only be her parents. Her mother had the same dark eyes and her father had the same sleek, black hair. Both had the coldest, sternest expressions I had ever seen and for a moment I almost felt sorry for Rinaldi that her own parents didn't seem pleased to see her.

Then up ahead of us, I saw Lily and Richard were walking hand in hand. Gareth was walking with a group of his friends, and Al was talking with a girl who looked vaguely familiar, but whose name I (typically) couldn't place. Rose and Scorpius were dawdling behind us, likely delaying facing their parents in person.

"That was the best team we've ever been a part of," James said with an air of conviction. Then his eyes widened. "Oh, Godric…"

I frowned in confusion. "What?"

Wordlessly, James raised his free hand to point at something in the distance. No, not something. _Someone_.

"Holy hippogriffs," I breathed, feeling the blood drain quickly from my face.

Sorcha Patterson.

Sorcha Patterson was talking to my dad.

Talking. To. My. Dad.

"Eva!" she cried happily as James and I approached warily. My stomach was twisting itself into knots of dread. This was going to end badly, I just knew it. Perhaps she was plotting to kidnap my dad...it might be her last chance, after all.

All right, that was unlikely (I hoped), but at the very least she was going to say something completely mortifying. Ugh, where was a window to throw myself out of when I needed it most?

Sorcha was beaming widely. "I was just telling your dad about the new job I was offered."

"Oh?" I asked hesitantly.

"How I'll be working for _Witch Weekly_ writing for the Quidditch section. They loved the photograph I took and asked to see a writing sample. I'm very excited about it all!"

"Brilliant," I said hollowly.

James coughed in an attempt to hide a snigger and Mum shot us both a stern look that clearly said, _Be polite._

I ignored her. Unlike me, Mum didn't yet realize that Sorcha belonged under a heavy sedation spell in St. Mungo's. But oh, she was going to find out.

Holy hippogriffs, Sorcha would be reporting on Quidditch in a gossipy, girly magazine. She might even write about me or James….My brain couldn't process this new development.

Ugh.

"Mr. Wood…" Sorcha spoke up, her voice wavering a bit with nerves, "Would you …could I have your autograph? Please?"

"Not a problem," Dad offered graciously.

Ack, what was he doing?! I resisted the urge to cover my eyes and block out the scene before me.

Out from her shoulder bag, Sorcha pulled one of her favorite vintage Quidditch magazines. She flipped it open to the page she wanted, and I had to employ all of my strength not to stun Sorcha, rip the magazine out of her hands, and then set fire to it with some handy spell work. Because naturally, the picture was the one of my Dad shirtless and holding a Quaffle above his head, which made his abdominal muscles stand out. I wanted to die of embarrassment.

Mum raised her eyebrows when she saw the picture in question. James had to turn away in order to hide the fact that he was so close to laughing that his face had turned bright red. I wanted to step on his foot _– this wasn't funny_.

"This one's my favorite," Sorcha breathed in contentment.

If possible, Mum's eyebrows rose even higher. I felt justified for everything I'd ever said about Sorcha being a nutter. See? _I_ wasn't the mental one.

Pulling a large peacock quill out of her bag, Sorcha handed it to Dad. "It's so artistic. You don't always think of Quidditch being artistic, you know? But this photograph is."

Well, thank Merlin Sorcha hadn't said anything about Dad being good-looking to his face. That would have likely ended in me tacking her to the ground.

"There you are," Dad quickly thrust Sorcha's magazine back into her eagerly waiting hands. He looked relieved to have the picture out of his hands. Who could blame him?

Sorcha gazed lovingly at the picture and autograph. "Oh, _thank you_," she fairly whispered. "I am…your biggest fan."

"Er…thank you."

"I told you," I said loftily as we watched Sorcha walk away. She looked like she was in something of a daze. I supposed it made sense, considering all of her wildest dreams had just come true. She was holding the magazine in front of her face and not giving particular attention to where she was walking.

"Now I see why you didn't want me to answer her fan letters," Dad said, shaking his head slightly. "She's…er…rather intense."

"Well, I'll admit that you were right about her," Mum conceded, then asked. "Where have those brothers of your got to?"

While Mum and Dad went to look for my missing brothers, I turned back to James.

"So… I'll owl you about going running."

He nodded swiftly. "Good. We definitely want to be prepared. I've heard that the running portions tend to be brutal."

"Well, you'll need all of the practice you can get," I teased with a smirk of my own.

James pretended to look cross. "If you're going to be mean to me, I can revoke my invitation to play Quidditch with my family."

"No!" I nearly shouted. I felt my face turn red with embarrassment as people turned to look at me. I said more quietly, "I mean, don't you dare even joke about that James Potter."

"I won't un-invite you," James said, then smirked. "If I did, you wouldn't let me play with your family."

James glanced over my shoulder. "Looks like I have to go. My mum's signaling for me. We always go to the Burrow for an end of the term family dinner. I reckon there's going to be some interesting conversations."

When I just looked at him quizzically, he clarified. "While Sorcha was accosting your dad, Scorpius was meeting Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione."

"Oh!" comprehension dawned on me. "Tell Rose best of luck."

"I'll let you know what happens."

"You're _not _going to make me into a nosy parker, James. It's not in my genetic code like it is yours."

I looked over at my parents, who had returned with Richard and Gareth. Richard had apparently said his goodbyes to Lily. All four of them were all not-so-subtly waiting for me to finish my own goodbye.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, then," I said, feeling a bit awkward. I didn't exactly want to kiss James in front of both of our families.

James smirked. "You're embarrassed too kiss me, aren't you?"

My face was a bit warm as I replied, "I think our siblings have seen quite enough of us snogging; we don't need both sets of parents witnessing that as well. _Oh, wait_, there was that picture in a bleeding _magazine_, so they already have."

I wanted to sink into the floor all over again at the remembrance of the time Richard and Lily had caught us snogging in the locker rooms. And the thought of my parents somehow seeing that picture. Ugh.

"What kind of a boyfriend do you think I am that I'd let the girl I'm falling in love with leave without a goodbye kiss?"

Uh, one that doesn't enjoy embarrassing his girlfriend, perhaps?

"All right, then, just make it quick," I conceded, my stomach fluttering a bit at his mention of falling in love with me. He hadn't brought that topic up since that day he had first told me.

James didn't answer, just leaned forwards and kissed me gently and chastely. The kiss lingered for a brief moment, then as requested he pulled away.

As his lips left mine and I looked up into his soft brown eyes, suddenly the full impact of what was happening hit me. We had never had to say goodbye before. I was used to seeing James multiple times a day, but now things would be very different. Of course, I would still see him often, but it wouldn't be the same as it had been.

"We could keep going and give them a show," James offered with a classic smirk.

"Prat," I whacked him on the arm.

"You love it. See you, Eva."

I gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. "Bye, James."

I had informed Mum and Dad through a letter about all of my good news and letters for tryout invitations and they were excited to congratulate me in person. Dad, of course, was already doling out advice before we'd even left King's Cross.

"Oliver," Mum sighed. "You'll make her nervous. Just let her have a bit of a mental break. At least until we're home. To celebrate Gryffindor's victory and everyone's exams, I made shepherd's pie for dinner and treacle tart for dessert."

"Fine," Dad agreed reluctantly. "But first thing tomorrow morning, training begins."

"We'll help you train, of course," Garth said, as he and Richard came up to walk on either side of me as we moved towards the barrier with our trolleys.

Richard grinned. "Nothing but Quidditch for us this summer holiday. Dad's going to be mental. You'd best be ready for this, Eva."

Just before we strode back though the barrier to the Muggle world, I glanced back at the platform and the steaming scarlet engine. Then I looked forward and felt a sense of firm determination settle over me. I had a long road of hard work ahead of me, but also the opportunity of a lifetime. I smiled to myself.

Game on.

**The End**

~…~…~…~…~…~…~…

I've been working on Game On since the fall of 2011 - and now it's finally finished. Thanks to everyone for their patience when updates became a lot slower when I started graduate school. I'm extremely proud of Game On and my writing and I can't think everyone enough for their encouragement. **Thank you so much to **_**all**_** of my fabulous reviewers!** I've had a group of very dedicated, insightful, and thoughtful reviewers – you know who you are. The enthusiastic response to my plot and characters has been positively overwhelming in such a fabulous way. I'm grateful to everyone who has read and enjoyed Game On.

**Keep your eyes open for the sequel - The Name of the Game! But before that****,**** watch out for a oneshot about James getting his tattoo AND a James/Eva at the beach oneshot. AND at some point, a short Rose/Scorpius companion story.**


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